Of Bards and Betrayal The Warden's Tale in Orlais
by Maximus741000
Summary: Introduction: It has been six months since Ferelden’s triumph over the Blight, and the new king-consort to Queen Anora, Aldanon Cousland goes to Orlais to settle politics with Celene. But an old enemy lurks in the shadows; and a dear friend is in peril
1. Farewells

**Introduction**:

It has been a year since Ferelden's triumph over the Blight and the death of the Archdemon, and the newly appointed king-consort to Queen Anora, Aldanon Cousland has had his fame spread like wildfire across Thedas, and even the kingdom of Orlais was impressed. So much so, that empress Celene of Orlais has invited King Aldanon and Queen Anora to Val Royeaux, to celebrate in the flamboyance and splendour of Olesian celebrations, and offer the newly appointed monarchs cannot deny, and for Aldanon to receive the title of Honorary Knight of Orlais, but other reasons lie in store for the royal couple.

Meanwhile, the orlesian bard, Leliana continues her hunt for her bard mistress Marjolaine, who recently left Ferelden. Now her path mirrors Aldanon's, back into her old homeland. However, she is harbouring feelings for the young Grey Warden that were abated during the war; when Aldanon fell for the wild sorceress, Morrigan, who had recently disappeared from Ferelden. Now she is truly less certain of what she feels for her former  
companion. But events are taking place in the shadow of Val Royeaux, and an old enemy, insane with vengeance lusts for death, and plots schemes like the Dragon Age has never seen.

**Farewells**

Denerim's Royal Palace was the jewel in the royal crown Ferelden, or so the saying went. It was a city of surprising urban diversity, from the slums and elven alienage to the Royal Palace district and Fort Drakon, magnificence was always to be found, but you had to know where to look for it. The city could be as quiet as a sleeping Mabari and as loud as an enraged one. But it was the Maker's blessing that the castle was the quietest part of the city. But there were always exceptions to such fragile principles, one such exception was the king's best friend, Warden Commander Alistair.

"NO! Absolutely not!" exclaimed Alistair, his voice high with shock and surprise at his friend's notion, so loudly most of the castle heard him. He had been arguing with his warden friend in his guest chamber in Denerim's royal palace for the past five minutes. He was wearing his silverite Warden Commander Armour emblazoned with griffons, and his friend donned his dragonbone Royal Golden Armour. His friend, a debonair gentleman with dark, smart hair a trimmed moustache sitting in a red velvet armchair shook his head and sighed off the disagreement.  
"Oh, don't start that way now of all times, Alistair. It's only temporary, at very most a week." assured Aldanon Cousland, his rich, cultured voice however did little to calm Alistair's evident apprehension, leadership was certainly not his forte. But Aldanon had little time for reluctance, one of the many lessons Alistair learned from him.  
"I don't if it's only for the next five seconds; you're not appointing me as temporary chancellor!" retorted Alistair, his voice firming "You already made me Arl of Amaranthine, and Maker knows I'm worse than useless at leadership. I'm also Warden Commander, and why isn't Fergus appointed Chancellor?" Aldanon sat up straight and looked his friend directly in the eye, Alistair recognised this look and stopped tensing. Whenever Aldanon gave him that particular look, it meant that he was about to have some sense knocked into him.

"You know as well as the next person does that that was because the Wardens are returning to Amaranthine and are in need of both a Warden Commander and a lord of the region to receive direct instructions from. Besides, nothing changes the fact that you're still Maric's son and of noble ancestry" said Aldanon. For a moment it seemed Alistair was about to leave, he paced around the quarters, rapt in thought. His face screwed up in disagreement, which soon gave way to thought and sighed in acceptance and agreement.  
"All right, all right, point taken. Wait, why are you leaving again?" he asked, confusion written on his face. Aldanon had told him, but he kept forgetting, the reasons were, after all, too many to number.

"Fine, I'll remind you" Aldanon sighed impatiently "Empress Celene has invited Anora to discuss post-Blight political relations between Ferelden and Orlais, and I'm to be named Honorary Chevalier for 'preventing the spread of the Blight into Orlesian lands' in the Empress's words. But it's more like a gesture to silence distrust. The orlesian wardens also want to discuss the situation with me now that the Blight unofficially ended."  
"Still, if this invite came from Empress Celene herself, it means that she wants you to fall for her the way Cailan did," Alistair murmured "and in front of Anora." he added. Aldanon paused, folded his arms and frowned in incredulity "You, my friend, are absurd. You honestly think Celene would try to lull me into her influence?"  
"Sure; '_Bonjour monsieur Aldanon; care to join me in my bedroom?_'" he mimicked in an Orlesian accent with a toned up voice, to which Aldanon rolled his eyes grimaced in mock disgust, hiding his amusement. As much as he found Alistair annoying, the war had after all cemented their brotherhood, and he was used to it.

"When you two are quite finished making fun of yourselves with Orlesian mock-ups, we must depart at once." Anora's even voice chimed in, a smug smirk across her face. She was dressed in a royal purple dress with gold linings, her hair allowed to run neatly down her body, a rare occurrence. Aldanon rose from his chair, adjusting his armour. "Fear not, dear" Aldanon said "I'm just appointing Arl Alistair as chancellor while we're both away. He has my full confidence that we won't return to a Ferelden bathed in another civil war." nodding to Alistair, who did not smile at Aldanon's attempt ar humour and stood focussing straight-faced at Anora, his smile had dissapeared when she entered, _too much like Loghain_, he thought._ I suppose I should be lucky._

"Yes, well it's not like anything bad is going to happen." he told Anora "Like crops being stolen, another riot, tap-dancing soldiers trashing the palace!" he rambled on, inducing a delighted chuckle from Aldanon. But for all his glibness, Anora was hardly moved, only Aldanon's gentelmanly charm was the sort that would work on her.  
"Enough, I can see your point clearly, Alistair." Anora interjected "Now then, my husband, don't forget your sword, shield and royal cloak. You wouldn't want to look less than you were when you killed the archdemon."  
She threw a naughty smile across to Aldanon and departed, who admittedly made him smile back. "I'll see you at the carriage." Alistair seized the moment and threw another cheeky grin across, Aldanon's pleasure quickly turned back into pressure after realizing Alistair's humour attempt. He collapsed back into his armchair.

"Somebody's beginning to warm up to her!" he teased. Aldanon smacked his forehead, exasperated.  
"I don't see what your problem is; to me she's more like a childhood acquaintance, than my worst enemy's daughter. That I reserved for Delilah Howe." He added; his voice growing cold. Alistair sensed his mood change and edged about nervously "Besides, she's your equivalent of Delilah, is she not?" he asked. Alistiar knew what he meant, he remembered the day the Howe family lost their noble title and lands, to be given to the Grey Wardens.  
"That's true," said Alistair "and while I don't say it often, I am grateful you became her king instead of me. Maker, it would have been awkward." He clasped his hand on Aldanon's shoulder as he rose from the chair.  
"Thank you. Luckily, she likes appearing attractive to me" He returned, smiling "I know you don't like the fact that people look to you for leadership, but the truth is you have it in you to lead. And don't worry; some men from Highever are coming to keep peace in Denerim while the Royal Regiment is gone, and Teyrn Fergus is coming to keep you company, his wife Lady Elebeth will look after Highever." At the news, Alistair relaxed. "I suppose that's not so bad." He said, acceptance in his voice. "But still what do I do in your absence?"

"Well..." Aldanon strode to his desk and picked up a large amount of books, scrolls and other articles "These should give you some background information about Ferelden politics, and what to do..." putting the heavy books in Alistair's arms, forming a pile up to his chin "and these documents are the more pressing items; letters from the nobility, trade subscriptions, tax reports, and don't sign the red letters" by the time Aldanon finished, they had formed a pile so high Alistair's face his behind it "Right. Thanks." His muffled voice sounded sarcastically from behind the pile. He rested it down on the desk, panting from the weight. "Anything else I need to be aware of?"  
"Yes actually," Aldanon burst out in recollection, his voice suddenly hardened "In the time we're gone Alistair, take this:" Aldanon produced a pouch of sovereigns, enough to be called a back tax owed to the nobility. Alistair did not notice the caution in his voice and serious expressions, and reacted with awe and gasped.  
"But what _is _it? It's enough to make a poor man rich enough to buy a decent house!" he exclaimed, amazed.  
"Ssh!" Aldanon whispered "it's enough sovereigns to pay for the damage done to the elves in the Denerim, after Anora came down hard on them during their food crisis. It's like my father said once; 'You know what they say about mice when the cat is away?' I fear that you may need to do what Anora would not permit me to do while she's gone. Use it well." Alistair nodded understandingly, he took the pouch and concealed in underneath his armour. "All right, I'll be careful, you're doing a good thing, you know? Any more fuzzy stuff before you leave?"  
"Yes; take care, brother," they clasped shoulders again "and no tap-dancing soldiers." He added smiling. Both men were used to each other's humour, whether it was Alistair's silliness or Aldanon's upper-class quips.  
"Oh! You always were a fun sucker!" he joked. Aldanon turned and noticed a servant leave his Denerim Shield and King Maric's blade on a side table. He sheathed the blade and bore the shield . "Farewell." He finally said and vanished away. Alistair was left alone in the room, listening to the sound of his old friend's armour clinking away.

Aldanon was walking rather quickly now, guards stood to attention when he passed and maids and servants stopped working where ever he passed. However, avoiding Anora's bad side was imperative. They may have been childhood friends, but her father's reserved nature did put him off ease. Often he would cling to fond memories of play sword fights with his brother and Cailan, and Anora chatting with Delilah in the distance, whilst their parents discussed Grey Wardens returning and other politics. The fact that Anora was the true leader kept him subdued, he would not risk his title or Ferelden's prosperity in a heated argument with her, the best he could do was nudge her in the right direction.

"Ho there, your highness!" called a familiar voice, Fergus marched into sight, his grin visible across the hall. He was clad in a dazzling red steel heavy mail suit, and flanked by four formidible Highever soldiers.  
"Fergus! Good to see you!" The two brothers embraced, but broke away just as quickly. "How's Lady Elebeth?"  
"She's fine, you know getting me to walk in Denerim at the height of the celebrations was the best thing you did for me, I would not have met her otherwise." his eyes wandered the depths of his thoughts as he spoke, and a dreamy smile came across his face. Aldanon was glad that his brother had finally met a woman he truly loved. While he did love Oriana, she was just a bit too inflexible, and in Aldanon's opion stuffy. But he continued to remember her with honour, and her son, Oren. "I just passed the queen," he resumed "she says she's going to leave without you." the fact that Aldanon had to obey her still amused Fergus. Before more brotherly banter could resume, Anora entered the hall and was about to interrupt; she had a tendency to do that. But of course that was part of the package that was Anora Mac Tir.  
"I was just about to tell the Teyrn that Alistair was in the palace, _Anora_" he countered, irritation rising in his tone. Anora shot a disaproving frown across, which lessened when Aldanon became visibly less annoyed.  
"Well, we are ready when you are." She reminded him and left for the carriage. Aldanon strode out into the courtyard, Fergus at his side, and to his delight saw a company of knights clad in silverite armour with shield seals representing all the nobility of Ferelden, from Highever to Gwaren, Denerim, Redcliffe and Amaranthine. It took a lot for him not to give into his pride; even though uniting Ferelden from civil war was no triviality. Ultimately his position as king-consort, chancellor and General of Ferelden's army provided him great ceremonial prestige.

He marched towards a white stallion at the head of the regiment, mounted and turned to Fergus "Farewell, brother. Look after Alistair and Ferelden while I'm gone." He bid his brother with sincerity, clasping his hand.  
"Don't worry about us, just have fun in Orlais and don't look too handsome or go unescorted, Orlesian ladies have a taste for heroes. And with Anora around, don't get too endulged" he chuckled "Oh, and here, take these." he unsheathed what looked like the Cousland sword and shield, but reforged with silverite, and a magical glow ran around their edges, Aldanon recognies the enchantments that were made. "I had them taken to Soldier's Peak to be reforged anew by Mikheal Dryden, cost me a bundle but it was worth it, considering the adventures you've had."  
"I'll remember, and thank you." said Aldanon. He fastened his golden helmet and Fergus stepped back folding his arms. "Knights, sally forth!" he shouted, horns sounded across the city and the Royal Regiment and Anora's carriage set forth. Royal bugles sounded as they departed, the king was received by cheering crowds, eager to see the Ferelden king face the Orlesians.

Long after they departed the city, a golden sun was setting into the Amaranthine Ocean, Aldanon's armour shone in the fading light like a beacon for all to see. They would go first to Highever then to Val Royeaux. Aldanon's thoughts were just as quiet. _I have served Ferelden as best I could thus far, Orlais will prove a challenge. Empress Celene is cunning, just like her people. My Warden sense is tingling once again, I know something great and terrible is on that road, Maker watch over those in my care._


	2. In the Shadows

**In the Shadows**

Aundar Jürgen strode the streets of Val Royeaux with a brutish nature that distinguished him from the other Orlesian citizens of like a wolf in a pen of lap-dogs. His frightening appearance kept most passersby well away from him, but the fact he was still a eyesore in a city of beauty put him off to no end. He was heavily built, with a large bald head, plaited black beard, and clad in red steel chainmail adorned with wolf and bear furs. But what scared the Orlesian citizens most was his accent, a deep, heavy Anderfel tone of voice was like thunder of foreign storms. Aundar was used to the wild frozen wastes of the Anderfel steppes and fighting alongside other men who were just as gruff and blood-lusting, this realm where frilly, fluffy flutter was everything; well all he could do was trust that the reward was worth it, at least that's what the Mistress assured him. In a leather sack was a stash of steel swords, which he had kept as discretely away from the public eye as his large size could afford, underneath his furs. He took a turn away from the more glamorous part of the city into a back alley.

He walked towards a decrepit warehouse that lied down a filthy back alley, up to am elm door and knocked. Once. Twice. Once. The door creaked open and a thin, wheezy orlesian voice emerged from the crack in the door.  
"Do you have the weapons" the voice breathed, age hung on his voice.  
"Hrr...Yes. Now get out my way, I'll not suffer more Orlesian fools." He snarled in his evident dog-like manner. The door slid open, and Aundar shuffled in, and the door slammed raucously behind him.  
"_Silence_!" a woman's voice shrieked from the shadows "Do you want all Val Royeaux to know I'm here?" she added, a paranoid disturbance entrenched in her voice. The other mercenaries, well-equipped men with weapons and heavy mail armour of exotic materials, grunted nodded nonchalantly. Mercenaries were not a strange sight in Val Royeaux, but a surprising number of them in the streets, well equipped and positively threatening, would have been enough for the Empress to remove them from the streets of the city, so stealth and secrecy was necessary.

Aundar walked over to a smoky corner of the warehouse where a surly smith caked in soot and dirt hammered away at a sword. He was badly shaved, his beard trapping soot as it flew from his forge, he seemed to be constantly muttering to himself, and there was always a chip on his shoulders.  
"I have the weapons you asked for, smith." the anderfel man grunted, dumping the sack onto the ground. The smith stopped what he was walking on and opened the sack to examine them.  
"Good, now let's..." he paused midway, examining the metal and scowled "You numb-skulled anderfel scum!" he burst out; Aundar became visibly enraged "I can't work these swords in the short time we have! These are steel blades, not silverite like I requested!" he ranted on. But Aundar was not about to suffer more orlesians.

"Bite your tongue, blacksmith." he snarled "I'm paid to fight, not run trivial tasks for narrow-minded fools."  
"Silverite is strong yet light and malleable during forging; steel is just obstinate, heavy and not as strong!" the smith ranted, shaking the swords at his deliverer from the blade. "The mistress wants a powerful and efficient army, not a brigade of rusty tin soldiers." Aundar drew a mighty, blackened battle axe and raised to strike  
"Enough!" their mistress screeched once again "I will accept this mistake just this once. Work double time, smith Benoit. They must be equipped as soon as possible. King Aldanon and Queen Anora arrive next week."  
She slunk back into the shadows and ascended to the top of the roof, there she overlooked the whole of the city. Aundur shuffled into another dark part of the warehouse to a nearby hovel about the size of a cesspool, opened the door, dirt falling off it as he opened it, and slammed it behind him.

++++++++++

The doorman, the old and wheezy orlesian human dressed in lavish tevinter mage robes and a green staff slung on his back sat on one of the dusty armchairs in the corner and secretly helped himself to his mistress's wine. His hair was grey and stringy, wrinkles made his gaunt face more decrepit and ashen, yet in spite of his age, his skin was not flaking or crusty, but oily and reptilian. He was approached by another man, but this one wore heavy leathers and belts and buckles slung across his torso carrying daggers, hand axes, a sword on his back, and all other manners of remorseless pieces of metal. He was much younger than most of the other men there, and his tanned skin and refined accent identified him right away as a man from Tevinter. He leaned against one of the bare wooden beams that kept the place from collapsing and called to the mage.

"My men were able to round up some more mercenaries; they cost us a bundle, but their blades should be worth it. We still need more funds to pay these men, some of my thieves have taken to robbing the nobility in the city, but it means the Empress will start to take notice of our presence." He reported to the mage.  
"There may be a solution to that, Iūrups." the mage replied in a suggestive tone "Send some of our men to the Val Royeaux alienage to collect some elves, at least the ones who look strong enough to lift a sword."  
"Elves? Those flimsy knife-ears are about as useful in battle as the next plague-stricken beggar, François; to put them in our army would be like giving a warrior a herring instead of an axe." Iūrups complained, his typical Tevinter distaste for anything elven was evident. But the mage was his superior and could easily sway him.

"They will be our cheapest source of sword arms, and any who won't come freely will come by force." François said in his casual, idle way. "If you disagree of course, the mistress can always settle it." He suggested, knowing his adversary could not best his argument. Intimidated by the mage's argument, Iūrups glared and turned his back on the mage. Before he vanished into the shadows of the warehouse he turned again.  
"It will be difficult to ensure all those elves are armed and armoured." He challenged François.  
"I said they need only be sword arms – cannon fodder in effect, I did not say 'our best', just give them the bare minimum and say their lives will be better in the end." He said, reclined into his chair, almost dozing the conversation off, dreaming of his power and ambitions extending.

++++++++++

Val Royeaux was beautiful at this time of year, flowering trees in blossom, the great stone city gleaming in the moonlight, the sounds of music, laughter and city gossip formed almost formed a perfect urban symphony. The common folk would vacate to their inns and taverns and relish their rowdy excitement, and the aristocracy would partake in dancing, sightseeing, or quiet walks in the city for lovers. She, on the other hand had been away from her home city for what felt like decades, and what would have been an everyday occurrence for her was more like a new experience, after months of absence. _Ferelden reeked of wet dog_, she thought,_ that must be remedied as soon as possible, and she will learn to see that land and all within it as I do_. All foreigners to Ferelden had this almost insufferable notion that Ferelden had a dog-like odour about it, and some Fereldens argued back and Orlesian air was more perfume than actual air, but this woman's disgust at what was a trivial matter was disturbing to everyone around her. Her appearance and well groomed, almost unreasonable hygienic nature suggested that she was once an aristocrat, but why she would throw away all her money on what some of the mercenaries called a fool's errand was beyond them all. And she was beyond reason too, the only thing that kept her operation both behind the veil and holding together was the prospect of reward and profit.

+++++++++++

"Mistress?" she turned about so quickly the newcomer jerked back deeper into the shadows. It was the mage, François, he regained his poise and resumed "This desire you intend to see through, must so much expense, thievery and murder come into play when we can simply kill the girl and leave it at that? T'is such a costly revenge you plan on exacting, blind to all logic. You have my spells at your disposal after all."  
"I will take no chances with her," she answered in a supple Orlesian voice "and you forget she has friends in high places with the power to put us on the run. I will not allow my life to be threatened by her hounding; she will suffer for what she plans to do, and Orlais will benefit from her death. And you know this, don't you, François?"  
"With all due understanding, mistress, but why can I not just use my spells to wipe her out for you?" as a mage, François had the ability to use his cunning coercion to bend others' wills to suit his own, but his mistress was the ultimate exception. "As tempting as you offer is, to suffer from the heart and head rather than the flesh," she responded coldly "I want her to suffer as such, no questions asked. The Grey Warden will not stop me." François depended was driven by logic, and his mistress's motive confused him, but his intelligence warned him against disagreement. "Of course, mistress. It shall be done." the slick mage departed with a bow. His mistress resumed her brooding, dire machinations were being born, and Maker only knows what they would soon be.


	3. The Open Seas

**The Open Seas**

The sun rose glamorously over Highever, one of Ferelden's most respected, prosperous and strongest cities and ports in Ferelden. A stone city situated in a stretch of hills that form the sea-facing crown of the Coastlands, Highever dates back to the days when Ferelden was a land of divided, warring lords, and was made a stone city by sea-faring trade bringing in profit which went to improving the houses of the people. It's not just because of the land being the teyrnir of the noble and honourable House Cousland that made Highever prosperous, but thriving trade from Orlais, the Free Marches, Nevarra and Antiva, a healthy supplement of local men to become soldiers, and craftsmanship unique to Ferelden.

Recent relations with Orlais under Teyrn Bryce's permission allowed Orlesian commerce to come into Ferelden including medicine, education, art, fine clothing and fabrics, food, soap and of course Orlesian wine; one of the finest in Thedas. This inflow of new and exciting goods had allowed Ferelden to become more sophisticated. All of that was banned of course, when Rendon Howe seized Highever from Aldanon's family. But now, with Fergus as Teyrn, Highever is a thriving cosmopolitan city; elven living standards improved and some became more respected citizens and there were the occasional dwarven smiths and merchants, something other nations are starting to envy. The Sun had perfectly illuminated the city, and like a rooster crowing its heraldic call of the Sun's return, the royal horns sounded, people ceased their daily errands to witness the event. The king and queen were on the move through Highever.

+++++++++++

After a peaceful night at Highever Castle, Aldanon set about to preparing to leave for Orlais. He had slept with mixed emotions that night; in the room that was once his bedroom when he was a young man, fond memories clung to him like when his marbari hound, Maximus imprinted on him when he was a pup, and the two were night inseparable. But there were ill memories too; Howe had attacked the castle at night, trying to sleep in the atmosphere that was where a battle took place nearly overwhelmed him. The memories of every soul in the castle fighting and dying around him anguished him inside. Fergus's wife, Lady Elebeth did the best she could to ensure he was at ease, but even she could not ease the pain in his memories. It was Anora joined him; he was able to put it all aside, and at least have a few hours of peace. When the castle squire came into the room, both had quite a surprise. Aldanon recognised the elf's face immediately; it was Soris, from the Denerim alienage.

"My! y-your majesty! I um, uh." He stuttered, Aldanon chuckled mildly and bid him welcome.  
"Come here my friend, no need to be shy." He beckoned, Soris obeyed, still shaking with excitement and set about to cladding Aldanon in his golden armour.  
"I had no idea you were coming here your majesty." The elf exclaimed, struggling to fit the armour on properly.  
"Didn't you see me at dinner, yesterday?" asked Aldanon, but Soris was trying to focus still.  
"I've just been told to prepare the guests for the voyage to Orlais, it be must exciting mustn't it?" he conversed.  
"I certainly hope so," said Aldanon "However, it's more likely to be an extension of Orlesian celebrations and just a few matters on the side." he suddenly became serious and looked Soris sincerely in the eye "I sorry about the damage that was done in the alienage, and rest assured that I _will _take steps to ensure its reversed."  
"I certainly believe that you of all people will ensure that a change starts somewhere." said Soris. He finished buckling the leather straps together and handing him the helmet. "Well, good luck, your majesty." Soris was about to bow, but Aldanon gestured to say there was no need. The elf smiled in return and Aldanon left.

Despite the luxury of his royal carriage, Aldanon had to keep shift to more comfortable nooks and crannies of the carriage, so that his armour wouldn't chafe him, much to the irritation of Anora. He kept trying to reach into his greaves as if something was physically stuck there, eventually Anora could not stomach the noises.  
"Dear, will you stop fidgeting?" she told him, but Aldanon became only more aggravated.  
"I can't help it, Anora, I've got laundry in my greaves." Aldanon moaned, Anora 's eyes widened in surprise as Aldanon pulled out a set of socks and a tattered shirt. "See what I mean?" he told her "And kings don't' fidget."  
"Regardless, Aldanon;" Anora asserted herself "we should discuss our duties while we are in Val Royeaux." she took out of her purse a set of folded letters and started to read them.

"First and foremost: 'the Discussion of post-Blight relations with Orlais', as you told me before, Cailan kept..." she paused for a moment, as if she would turn sick for mentioning it, "close relations with Empress Celene,. Now, we must decide how to effectively deal with this. Orlais is a strong nation and it would be better if she was our ally than our foe, but not the ally Cailan wanted her to be. Second and most relevant to you: 'Grey Warden alliances between the nations', as you know; Amaranthine is becoming the Grey Warden base of operations in Ferelden, and they will want to draw up strategies to end the continued darkspawn attacks. And thirdly; Honourary ceremonies to cememorate your triumph over the archdemon." she concluded, and Aldanon mulled them over.  
"I like the last one better." he decided. Anora could not help but laugh.

+++++++++++

The carriage and its retinue itself was a sensational sight, when the populace heard that King Aldanon was coming to set sail from Highever, there was no end of pleasure and joy. The enthusiasm of Ferelden's crowds had not died down since the death of the archdemon, the prospect of their hero being king must have sustained that. Minstrels played their tunes as the carriage trundled down the downhill road, and townsfolk sang along to them, the cheering was almost thunderous, and mighty regal and brass bands horns sounded as they came. _This is the sort of fame and glory Cailan would have wanted to achieve_; Aldanon thought, _I wonder if he would have been proud to see his home so overjoyed_.

As the carriage turned towards the docks, it took most of Highever's guardsmen to form a path for the royal couple to pass by. Aldanon looked out toward the bay and noticed with conclusive thought that the largest ship in the harbour must be the one he and Anora were boarding. The vessel's name was he _Sea Dragon_, and she was aptly named, for she was the pride of the recently growing Ferelden navy. Her prow has shaped in the form of a roaring High Dragon, which occasionally emitted fire to amuse the crowds, and dragon's wings carved along her massive hull. Though intended at a warship, most of her armaments were set aside for the journey, to encourage a strong yet peaceful impression in Orlais.

Upon her mast was Aldanon's personal flag, which was designed to represent a stronger, united Ferelden; it was a yellow shield upon a drawbridge on blue background, a crowned golden mabari dog rearing up bearing a sceptre to represent peace, and on his opposite the Wardens' silver griffon with a sword in his talon representing war, both were enveloped in the Cousland House wreath under a sun, arched by stars. By the time Aldanon, Anora and the Royal Regiment arrived at the ship, they were still loading crates onto the vessel, the ship's crew were rigging the _Dragon _up for the voyage and a few sailors were bidding their loved ones goodbye. When Aldanon came onto the scene, the aid of the sun making his golden armour glow with brilliance, the whole dock burst into cheering as he boarded the ship, and resumed their business once he was safely inside the captain's cabin, leaving Anora to do the whole speech business.

++++++++++

The captain, an aging man with a large moustache and a trimmed beard, was signing a few documents and quietly mumbling how the noise hindered his concentration, he was caught by surprise when Aldanon entered.  
"Andraste's fiery brand, you're here at last! Captain Arnold Newport at your service, your majesty!" he took Aldanon by his gauntleted hand and shook him firmly, "Welcome to the _Sea Dragon_, your majesty! Now, are you looking forward to this voyage and visiting Val Royeaux?" he asked him enthusiastically.

"It's been a long time since I sailed on anything, captain. But we're all going to make the best of it."  
"And one more thing; I received some curious guests the other night: a nifty elf, an overweight dwarf, and a mabari hound. Said they were looking for you" he informed Aldanon, who's eyes widened with surprise. And as if by response, he felt a sudden blow to his chest and fell, and he saw to his delight a huge brown mabari dog showering him in saliva and rinsing his face with his tongue, while a tanned, heavily leathered elf chuckled in the corner and a large dwarf was charging straight towards him.

"Get outta the way, dog" he shoved Maximus the dog to the side and picked me up with his huge arms laughing "Aldy, by the Stone! It's just about sodding time!" he was squeezing Aldanon so tightly he could hear his armour creaking form the pressure. It took most of Aldanon's strength to shake Oghren off.  
"It's good to see you too Oghren," Aldanon said "you too, Zevran." He clasped the elf's hand, shaking it firmly.  
"When we heard that you were off on another adventure, this time to Orlais. There was no stopping us."  
"Well, I am glad you've come. Might I ask about the others; Wynne, Leliana, Shale, Sten?" he asked his friends hopefully, but they both shook their heads solemnly.

"I received a letter from Wynne," Zevran said "telling us that she might be in Val Royeaux by the time we get there, she left Shale in the care of the tevinter mages to help regain her mortality. Sten, I haven't heard from since he left abruptly; I don't think he means to keep in touch. And Last I heard from Leliana, she was still hunting Marjolaine who had left Ferelden lately, and was heading to Val Royeaux. So we might see her."  
"Well, that's hope enough for me," said Aldanon. "Let's make something of this Orlesian excursion yet!" He said to his friends "Now let's set sail! Captain Arnold, tell the crew; the Sea Dragon's voyage has begun! "  
"Gladly, your majesty!" cheered Captain Arnold. He exited the cabin and the trio left with him and took their places on deck waving farewell to the populace. But Oghren's stomach was unsettled, and was moaning about as loudly the ship was as it steered out to sea.  
"Uh, Sod it all." he groaned "I knew I shouldn't have eaten that big breakfast. This is why dwarves don't sail."


	4. On the Hunt

**On the Hunt**

In the middle of the vast, verdant land known as the Dales was a small, lonely Inn outside the Orlesian town of Lydes by the name of the Silver Antler. It was a favourite enough destination for travellers along the imperial highway, particularly adventurers in search of the treasures from the old Elven homeland that was the Dales. Recently with the darkspawn raids and the Orlesian military spread throughout the nation in vain effort to exterminate them, small establishments like the Silver Antler are relatively unprotected, resulting in poor business. But it was this one occasion which had proved to be a boon of fortune for the proprietor of the Antler; Norman Cerledre was also a warning of the danger to come for the greater part of his home.

The past few weeks had been cruel to Cerledre and his assistant, Surilie, the darkspawn raids had left the local armed forces in hot pursuit of them, and people fleeing the region to escape the potential danger. No safety meant no staying, and no staying meant no customers for Cerledre, soon he would have to leave. But what really made that night harsher were the rainstorms, it was raining heavily in the Dales for weeks now.  
"Another rotten eve and no customers, mon amie." Cerledre mumbled dispassionately, "Is it true what the Chevaliers are saying, that there are no customers left for us to cater in the region? If we must endure another week without business we may as well abandon the establishment altogether."  
"It wouldn't be so bad if he had enough food and drink to cater, but it too is fast in dwindling. And the topper comes in the form of ill winds and storms from the southwest bearing down on us. There will be no business for the next weeks. That's for sure." Both men sighed resignedly. They were not expecting anything in particular to happen.

Suddenly, there was a loud wail of the wind, and the two men noticed the door opening. As if completely out of nowhere, a heavily robed and hooded figure emerged from the doorway, soaked from the rainfall. The figure was relatively short and lightly built, and moved with a grace and elegance that surprised the two lonely bartenders. The figure pulled up a chair on the far corner of the bar and laid his hooded head down on the table, and Cerledre walked gingerly over to attend to the newcomer. She wore a green cloak over a brown chantry robe.

"How can I help you, monsieur?" he asked tentatively. The figure pulled back the hood, and Cerledre was honestly stunned. She was a most beautiful young woman, with smooth sunset skin, and scarlet hair that seemed to glow like the setting sun, even in the dimmed light, her features were light and delicate, but her eyes sparkled with insight, and it could be seen in those eyes that she had seen and known much in past months.  
"Mademoiselle would do," he answered. "As for how you can help, I'd like a draught of your finest ale, and some bread, cheese and perhaps some fruit." The two bartenders snapped into action to acquiesce to the guest's wishes, this pleased the traveller, as she seemed to have more on her mind than food and rest. Once she had eaten and drank her fill, she called Cerledre over and asked for privacy from Surilie.

"I have come here with certain intents. I am looking for a -" she paused to find an appropriate word "friend of mine, a woman. She might not have introduced herself." she inquired searchingly. Cerledre looked at her confused, but she had more to say "She would be fairly tall, brown hair and looked as though she may have been beautiful once, dressed quite finely and had a strong Orlesian accent." Cerledre paused to recall of seeing a woman by the girl's description. But then the memory struck him, and he became visibly disturbed.

"I know of whom you speak mademoiselle, though I must warn you; do not go looking for her!" he urged, his guest began showing traces of irritation and protest in her face. "She came to my inn, not two months ago, said she was running from a woman – of your very description no less. She did not tell me her name, but I could tell she was certainly deranged. But she left me with a message, that if you ever made your way here," he paused and shook with fear; so much so, he thought he would stop talking, "we were supposed to tell you not to pursue her, else you find yourself in her grasp. And that she would kill you." The guest showed a trace of calculating fear but soon subdued it, for it quickly turned to bold determination. She pulled out a large pouch of coins which drew Cerledre's eye, Cerledre opened the pouch and his eyes widened in surpise, how could a travelling chantry pirest have so much money? There was something clearly out of place.

"Take these silvers, monsieur, as my thanks for the food, drink and the information." she said and got up.  
"Thank you kindly, mademoiselle," he thanked but became stern again "But I implore you, do not go after this madwoman you spoke of, let alone by yourself." But she had already wrapped her cloak around her body and put her hood back over her head as if she had not heard Cerledre's words.  
"I am setting forth to Lydes Docks now, and I'm taking a boat to Val Royeaux to find her. No matter what you say, monsieur, she will not see me coming." she announced bravely, opened the door and disappeared into the foul weather. Cerledre's memories of the recent guest's said woman were frightening ones, she was anticipating the girl's arrival. _Maker protect her, for she knows not the danger she's walking into_, Cerledre prayed to the Maker,_ and may a strong soul shield her from the darknes_s.


	5. Into Val Royeaux

**Into Val Royeaux**

The crew of the_ Sea Dragon_ said that she didn't sail across Waking Sea's vast azure vaults, but soared across them, for she was as graceful at sea as a dragon was in flight. And that gave her swiftness akin to flight than sailing. When smaller ships passed, they did well to give the _Dragon _a wide berth, for fear of her great armaments and fearsome appearance. Zevran seemed to be having a better time at it, training sailors to fight with his speed and reflexes and scaling the rigging, and was now sharing the crow's nest with another sailor. The fact of the  
_Dragon_'s graceful sailing came much to the relief of Oghren's fears that he would be heaving up all his meals whilst on the voyage. After that he had raided the ship's larder for food. Only to learn he had eaten the apples from the wrong barrel, and lost his appetite. When Aldanon found him he was sitting, legs stretched out, looking about as glum as an old donkey and smelling twice as bad, next to the _Dragon_'s head, with Maximus sleeping next to him.

"Oghren, why don't you get up and find something productive to do?" Aldanon beckoned Oghren, who grunted gloomily. "Maybe go up into the rigging and get a good view of the Waking Sea and the nearby realms"  
"I'm just having a quiet moment, Aldanon," he grumbled grumpily "I'll be up and about when I feel like it."  
"Oh come on, Oggers. You have for too many quiet moments while you've been with me. It's odd for a dwarf."  
"I'm just feeling seasick, already!" he grunted loudly. "And since when do you call me 'Oggers'?" he asked confused, Aldanon paused for a moment, remembering that he never used the new nickname before.  
"Well, not at all until recently." He confessed sheepishly. Oghren chuckled for a moment and smiled.  
"Well, I like it, it actually sounds like me." Having come into a visibly better mood, he pulled out a flask of beer and drank heartily, offering some to Maximus, who sniffed it and gagged disgustedly, whilst Aldanon got up and left him, pleased that at least Oghren was no longer under the weather.

++++++++++

Aldanon patrolled across the _Dragon_'s deck impatiently, for he was eager to get to Val Royeaux, but found himself at a loss with nothing to do with the ship's crew busying themselves with the multitude of nautical tasks. He went to the captain's cabin to find Anora working diligently on a list of requests for Empress Celene detailing military exchanges for mutual benefaction. However she was not interested in Aldanon's company.  
"Aldanon, I'm quite busy at the moment, these forms are meant to go to Empress Celene outlining our future military relations, and I'm not finished," she said firmly. But Aldanon was not easily deterred, less by her.

"But then there must be some level of diplomatic measures that I can take with Celene on your behalf, Anora." he said, hopefully. Anora, however made an expression that told him that it wasn't necessary.  
"Just be patient, Aldanon," she assured him "We'll be in Val Royeaux soon enough, and when you meet the Orlesian wardens, you'll have plenty to busy yourself with. As I've told you before; leave the Empress to me."  
This was one of the less fortunate times when he realised that at the end of the day, for all his political or military powers and regular exercising of them, he was still a figurehead, Anora would always have the final word in those affairs. He resignedly exited and rested on the stairs to the higher deck.

"Then what do you hope to accomplish when it comes to Empress Celene?" Aldanon asked. Anora thought for a moment, and gave him a curious look, as if to say 'could you be more specific?' so he elaborated "To start off with, Orlais does not have a high opinion of Ferelden, and we don't exactly have anything to appease them with; no food from us, or metals, timber, minerals, and under no condition is Ferelden going to part with her war dogs or swordarms, and that leaves us with a problem: assuming we try to persuade the Empress to engage in a mutually beneficial agreement, what , within our borders, and apart from our money, can entice the Empress's interest?" Anora looked up at him surprised by his political acumen and smiled approvingly, but became grave when she brought the subject to thought.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely certain. Orlesian trade has made many people in Ferelden lead improved lives, and people are learning from Orlais, and Orlais in return gets a large helping of sovereigns. But," she paused and sighed, almost despairingly "I don't think we can offer more than our good word."  
"Well, there is literature, as in my adventures," Aldanon thought "and we can also offer them a pilgrimage passage though Ferelden to Andraste's resting place near Haven, something we can earn a lot from." Anora mulled his ideas over, and became visibly impressed, "Excellent points!" she exclaimed, delightedly.  
"Land, ho!" a coarse sailors voice boomed from the very height of the crow's nest, and to Aldanon's relief and pleasure he could see it, the docks of Val Royeaux city. Soon enough, Captain Arnold was on the scene, shouting out orders so loudly, Orlais could practically hear him.  
"All hands on deck!" he boomed "Brace the foreyard! Crowd that canvas! Man the oars if need be!" Aldanon went to the edge of the ship and looked out the city in which he would be seeing in much better detail soon.

+++++++++

Once the _Dragon_ had landed in the bay, a large crowd of Orlesian citizens had gathered to see the Fereldans land, and to catch a glimpse of the hero who became king. As soon as Aldanon and Anora were off the _Sea_ _Dragon_ a young noble with auburn hair and a fair face approached them, he carried himself with an honest nobility similar to Bann Teagan, he conveyed leadership through charisma.

He took Anora's hand and kissed it gracefully and shook Aldanon's hand  
"Greetings, your majesty, and welcome to Val Royeaux. I'm Marquis Jacques, of the Royal Family, Empress Celene's cousin. I'll be escorting you through Val Royeaux to Palais Royeaux. I also understand you've brought King Aldanon with you, I take it this is the man?" he turned to Aldanon, who in is golden armour was the focus of almost hundreds of people. He nodded his head, smiling in his usual slightly shy way, still modest.  
"You stand correct, Monsieur Jacques. And rest assured we both look forward to ensuring both our lands emerge stronger from this," Marquis Jacques was convinced by Aldanon's convictions.  
"Now then, I trust you're all ready and eager to reach Palais Royeaux, let's not delay further." the Marquis announced, leading Aldanon, his companions, and the knights to their horses and Anora to her coach.

+++++++++

Nothing could have prepared Aldanon for Val Royeaux, in his mind's eye she was more fair than any city in Ferelden. A grand sweeping city, of marble citadel forts situated on hills where the chevaliers resided, wrought-iron fenced areas of land left green for trees to grow and birds to sing, fabulous mansions which marked the homes of the nobility, and roads avenues decorated with flowers and trees. Monuments were commonplace too, from fountains gilded in silver, to statues of the kingdom's emperors, and guarding the graceful Grand Cathedral, a lofty statue of Andraste stretching up into the heavens as if to rejoin her Maker.

The masonry itself was unique, it seemed almost Tevinter based, at least in terms of design, but more elaborate, graceful, and original designs were integrated, string courses to define each floor, pillar capitals carved with animal or human likenesses, arched doorways and windows and roofs capped with cornices.

They passed the Grand Plaza at the centre of the city, a great ring of downward stairs leading to a mighty obelisk, crowned with a golden sun, the symbol of the Orlesian Empire and of the Chantry, people crowded around it in prayer, admiration or reflection, or sat underneath the pillared arches to enjoy the scenery. The Grand Cathedral was one of the most dominating sights in Val Royeaux, where the Chant of Light could be heard gracefully emanating from it, elegant marble walls broken by ornately carved apses, stained glass windows depicting scenes from Andraste's life, and towers rising on the corners of the cathedral, overarched by the bell tower.

Even the marketplaces were decorated, Aldanon managed to briefly glimpse what must have been the Avenue of Flowers, a part of the Market District that Liselle of Orlais mentioned when he first came to Denerim as a grey warden, an aromatic fragrance flowed from the street, and dresses of many colours made the avenue seem alive. _Anora's going to love this part of the city_, he thought; but his thoughts drifted off and he became suddenly saddened, _Maker, I wish Leliana was here_. Even the houses of the common folk were a surprise to him, they were similar to the ones in Ferelden, but cleaner and well kept, their wooden beams oiled to give, and capped with brick tiles. _After seeing this, Ferelden's homes should be remedied_; Anora thought, _too long Ferelden has not been the envy of the world._

+++++++++++

But one the true spectacles of the city was the Palais Royeaux. Upon entering the vast courtyard where they were to greet Empress Celene, a majestic, ornate marble façade towered over him crowned with statues of Andraste, her followers, other major orlesian figures situated on the roof, there was even a space reserved for Empress Celene. The Orlesian coat of arms was carved on the arching gable above the entrance, with graceful pillars forming the front of the palace, looking beyond this impressive front was a great dome, crowned with a smaller version of the golden Chantry Sun symbol. On the side of the main palace were two towers, both bore the Orleisan flag and sentinels could be seen, ever vigilant. Aldanon had not seen a grander residence in all his life. Beneath the vast palace was a full regiment of chevalier knights, and at the centre of it was a finely dressed company and a most regally decorated, distinctly beautiful young woman. Empress Celene and the royal family.


	6. Spies and Empress Celene

**Spies**

Iūrups could tell that there was something improper in Val Royeaux, the normally vast swathes of people were suddenly lessened. Only a handful of people remained within the city, and he had not seen what was drawing their attention. He could also hear a great cheering somewhere in the south. Could it be the empress? He thought to himself. He turned and effortlessly ascended a nearby house onto its roof, but could not see the reason why. He leapt onto the wall of one of the tallest noble houses and made his way up it, once one top, he could overlook most of southern Val Royeaux. He pulled out a small telescope and looked southward towards the bay and he could see it: the Ferelden coat of arms set upon a uniquely shaped ship, in the sunlight he could pick out the armour of knights, but at the centre of it was one clad in gold; he had been told to look for a knight in golden armour and was told he was no knight, but a king. King Aldanon.

"He's here!" he exclaimed out loud, "Aldanon Cousland is here!" as excited as he was, he wobbled and dropped the telescope. Though it came at little lament to him, he would still have to explain it to the good-for-nothing mage, François. He slid down the wall of the house and ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, swiftly back. _The mistress said that King Aldanon plays a part in her grand plan, but what is it?_ Iūrups thought, _All these great measures including an army, a mage, an assassin like myself, and a plot which involves the Fereldan king, just for revenge?  
_

It was easier this time to get back to the hideout unnoticed; there were fewer guardsmen, so he did not have to worry about stealth. He found the decrepit warehouse, ran up to the door and produced the secret knock. As soon as it was opened, he practically threw himself within and slammed the door loud enough to make the old building tremble. He looked as if he was he was being hunted by the guards; panting as he went in, he startled the other residents. François got up from his chair and left a bit of stolen bread he was chewing on, he looked curiously at Iūrups, who as soon as he caught his breath began to report.

"Mage, he's here." He panted heavily, handing the broken remains of the mage's telescope.  
"What are you talking about, fool? Who's here? What have you done to my telescope?" François demanded, striding towards him. Iūrups slumped onto a chair and downed a nearby bottle of wine he had saved.  
"The king, Aldanon of Ferelden has landed in Val Royeaux." He replied as soon as his breath was caught.  
"King Aldanon of Ferelden?!" their mistress's voice pierced the air once again, this time much closer. Iūrups felt a cruel, hard grip his leather armour, pulling him towards the shadows where his mistress lurked.  
"Yes, my sly mistress." He choked; her tightened hand dangerously close to his throat. Her eyes suddenly became visible to him; they held a manic pleasure in that chilled his spine.

"He's the one." she hissed excitedly "He's the one we bring to his knees. Have you sighted her yet? Is she with him?" Iūrups hesitated, become more afraid as her eyes flashed from frenzied satisfaction to terrible anger.  
"I know not, mistress" he said; fear strangling him "I did not see her with him. What does he matter anyway? Is he the one who nearly killed you?" he asked, suddenly he was flung back headfirst against a wooden beam  
"Keep your grubby hands out of where they don't belong, Tevinter slime!" she snarled "Get back to your spying! Get back to the docks, and don't come back until you spot that little demoness!" her voice rose to as shriek as she had almost stepped out of the shadows and assaulted him completely, but not before he had escaped her blows and scurried out of the warehouse. The mistress called François Aundar to her, they assembled and awaited interestedly, she was twitching with mad anticipation.

"Aundar, you must go into Val Royeaux with a few mercenaries as possible and await my word. When my spy reports her return, you must mobilize the mercenaries to trap her. François, see if you can get closer to King Aldanon, get good look at his weapon and bring a sketch of it back to the smith. Perhaps our man on the inside can help to that end; I also want you to prepare the necessary components for the trap. When she comes into Val Royeaux, I will notify you, my mage," she turned to François "to order the other mercenaries to march and join Aundar, there he will trap her and bring her to me. Then we move against Aldanon."  
"Mistress, must such a dangerous, hostile act be committed, once we so much as lift a finger against him, he or his knights or the chevaliers would finish us of." François stammered in fear, his mistress turned a hostile eye to the mage demanding an answer "We could simply capture her and bring her to you, and you could deal with her as you pleased, otherwise..." before he could finish, his mistress suddenly grabbed him by his robe and held a blade to his throat. The hapless mage struggled to be free of the point but Aundar restrained him.

"My revenge will go as I intended it to be, not how you would like it. Now go and do my bidding."  
"It will be done, my mistress. And fear not, for we are not all cowardly worms of mages" Aundar growled and turned a smug eye at the defeated mage; Aundar bowed respectfully, selected his men and left promptly. François opened a trapdoor near the fireplace and descended beneath the floor. The Mistress slunk back into the dark, lost in thought once again. Revenge. _I will have my sweet revenge._

++++++++++

**Empress Celene**

Aldanon dismounted his steed and joined the head of the Royal regiment and removed his visor, Anora was at the head of the Ferelden embassy preparing to greet the Empress. Once he had a clear view of Empress Celene, he could not have been more taken aback. Shimmering blond hair that seemed to shine like a river of gold which complemented her golden, ruby encrusted tiara, her emerald eyes depicted a mixture of cunning intelligence and witty charm, her silver sack-back gown with closed bodice and panniers, trimmed with padded bands of blue satin, chenille blonde lace, flowers of gathered ribbon, feathers and raffia tassels. He could see that her beauty was enough to lull a man like Cailan under her influence, but Aldanon had to maintain a strong will whenever it came down to her. Anora approached the empress and bowed respectfully.

"Greetings, Queen Anora Mac Tir of Ferelden," the empress smooth, accented voice radiated.  
"Greetings and well met, Empress Celene," Anora's voice now seemed drab in comparison to Celene. Aldanon was now really struggling not to be impressed by Empress Celene's external beauty, he made a point about his sincerity towards Anora by promising not to take up any mistresses; but here the Empress, it seemed as if two months of limited lady contact were suddenly being compensated for.

"I recall you once referred to me as 'a solitary rose among brambles', your majesty," said Anora.  
"Pft, that's disputable!" Zevran muttered to Oghren, who grunted nodded his head in agreement.  
"Then discussing political cooperation with you should be intriguing, yes?" Celene returned, "I've also been told you've found a worthy husband, none other than the one who had slain the archdemon, where is he?" Aldanon stepped forward and took off his helmet, revealing himself to the Empress, bowing low, and taking her hand delicately and kissed it. His parents had taught him to be courteous for days such as this one, had they learned he would be gracing Empress Celene of Orlais, they would have sooner believed he'd rode a griffon.

"It seems Anora chose her husband well, for he's every inch as fearsome and bold as the bards sung" she said to her courtiers, she then turned to Aldanon "Rest assured, your majesty, you will play a major part in the peace between our lands," she smiled to Aldanon, who was now overwhelmed by the excellent experience.  
"I will also make sure to see Val Royeaux's finest facets before I leave, with your blessing of course, your majesty." in truth, he did not know how to address the Empress; she chuckled smoothly and gestured calmly.  
"You need only refer to me as Celene, Aldanon, for we are to be friends in this endeavour, yes?" she said.  
Aldanon nodded in agreement.

"Truer words were never spoken. If I may ask, Celene, are the Orlesian Grey Wardens present at Palais Royeaux? I'm sure they're anxious to learn of the current state of affairs." As he said this, his stomach churned, for all his quality, he harboured the darkest of secrets; he resorted to dark magic to save his life. Soon he became lost in an ocean of his thoughts that overcame his reality.

++++++++++

Before his status as king-consort to Anora, he was in love with the wild, sultry sorceress of the Korcari Wilds, Morrigan. He fell under her spell because of years of courting young noble daughters, who were either snobbish or tedious, Delilah Howe being one of them. In Morrigan, he saw an exotic mystery of a woman that intrigued him like never before; he had given her many gifts from silver bracelets, golden necklaces, a golden mirror he found in Orzammar, to both of her mother's grimoires.

He had clashed with his companions over the fact that he liked her a lot, including Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne. It wasn't easy for them to accept a man of noble upbringing find fancy in a callous shrew of an apostate. Morrigan eventually succumbed to the ideas of love for his happiness. But on the eve of battle, she offered him a way to survive the death of archdemon; to father a child for the Old God spirit to live in. Their previous intimacy had made the option seem plausible, even desirable. When the battle was over, based on his blurred vision of the battle's aftermath, she turned into a bird and flew off the top of Fort Drakon.

He wanted to ensure Alistair would at least live to lead and rebuild the Ferelden Grey Wardens, while he ruled as king. Even though the consequences of his subconscious selfishness had not been seen, the Orlais Wardens would have been in the very least interested in the event. What made it worse is that _everybody _knew it was he who had slain the archdemon. His skin paled and he froze in fear, all he could see was a fog of memories of Morrigan, the archdemon, and the night.

++++++++++

He suddenly snapped back into consciousness, gasping loudly, he had not heard any of the response to his inquiry for Empress Celene. Everyone around him looked at him confused and worried. To them, he suddenly looked as if he'd returned from a nightmare. Celene soon overcame her anxiety and took over.  
"But come, now, you must be tired. I will lead you to the drawing room," she beckoned them "We will make further introductions later." she gracefully turned about and led both groups into the palace. One of the palace guards took Aldanon's mabari, Maximus by a leash and led him first to Aldanon.

"I will be taking your canine friend to the royal kennels," he motioned to the furthest part of the palace grounds, and was about to leave when Aldanon held up a hand inticating to wait. He bent down to Maximus, who was whining sadly about leaving him for a further few more hours, Aldanon rubbed Max's head and said  
"Don't worry, Max, you'll get your chance to spend some time with us in Val Royeaux. Be a good dog and don't grace the royal poodles with your presence", when he finished, Max cocked his head and whined curiously, but barked in agreement, and nuzzled Aldanon. "I'll see you later." he said

++++++++++

The palace itself was another tribute to the richness and sparkling beauty of Val Royeaux. Aldanon struggled to take it all in. The walls of the entry hall were white and decorated with gold linings, on each roof segment were intricate and stunningly lifelike portraits of Orlesian lords and chevaliers, some of Chantry personages, and some grey wardens. They had passed three individual drawing rooms before reaching their destination; they were all similar, fragrances hanging in the air, armchairs and sofas of varying fabrics and colours (at least in appropriate styles and colours), portraits, gold lining, murals of graceful spirits and animals, and elegant carpet floor. In one particularly vast room was the library, which must have held twice as many books than all the nobility estates in Denerim combined. In another room, the court musician played an elegant tune on what one of the Palace nobles explained to him was a harpsichord. Anora had been visibly agitated by Aldanon's sudden lapse from reality, strode over to Aldanon, with a look on her face as if Aldanon had embarrassed her in public.

"Aldanon, what it the Maker's name was that all about?!" she demanded in a hushed voice "We were making an important first impression on her, and she answered your question, but you had to nod off didn't you?"  
"I had no intention of doing it on purpose, Anora, it just happened." Aldanon said defensively "And it's not like you've never seen it. The truth us you have, haven't you." Anora was perturbed by this truth; she had after all intended the meeting with Celene to be a clean one. But ever since Aldanon defeated the archdemon, he sometimes succumbed to an impenetrable sea of thought that clouded everything around him, and shut his consciousness down, even once slowed his pulse to a stopping point; it was as if he was supposed to be dead.  
"You are correct," she said, "it has happened before, but don't let it happen again. Empress Celene must be impressed by us and our conviction to strengthen peace between Ferelden and Orlais."

++++++++++

When they reached the living room, Aldanon was beckoned to sit closest to Empress Celene, as if she had not been daunted by the earlier event. Anora sat with another group of Palace courtiers with some Ferelden banns near in another part of the living room. On Celene's opposite sat a man with a surprisingly gaunt face despite his middle age, with pitch black hair and a longer goatee and moustache than Aldanon.  
"You must be King Aldanon Cousland, you've played a part that secured Orlais from disaster. You should be proud." His voice was an even, persuasive one which gave Aldanon a curious feeling of discomfort, which was increased when he kissed Celene.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Aldanon asked as he tried to keep his voice composed rather than indignant.  
"I am Duke Claude d'Aubrac, the Emperor-consort of Empress Celene." Aldanon's eyes widened in surprise. "I understand that you and I share similar roles to our wives, except my title extends to full authority, not a mere symbol like yourself." His eyes narrowed at Duke d'Aubrac's inconsiderate comment. _Maker's breath_, he thought, _this is who Celene chooses for a husband; a giant prat of a duke with a skull face?_ He just managed to prevent a frown sprouting on his face, remembering Celene was there, keeping calm here was imperative.  
"My title may be ceremonial in part, my Duke, but Anora regards me as her equal." He retorted coolly, d'Aubrac considered him carefully, as if studying him for weaknesses. Celene motioned him to stop it.

"Claude, save your severity for another occasion, and for other personages, this man is an honoured guest. To challenge him is unworthy of you." she scolded him, in a manner similar to Aldanon's father, Bryce. "Please forgive him, Monsieur Aldanon, his duchy was assaulted by darkspawn. Though he won, his brother perished." This still did little to lessen Aldanon's seemingly irrational dislike for him; he suddenly understood how Alistair felt with Morrigan's psychological probing. He glanced across the room to see Anora in heated discussion with the palace courtiers, which meant he was not really needed, politically.

"I think I would like to get changed for the evening, your majesty." He told Celene "I will see you at dinner."  
"As you wish, Aldanon. See you at dinner. And before you go, the Orlesian Wardens arrive tomorrow at noon." Aldanon had almost forgotten about that, he was relieved to have removed it from his concern. He was also surprised to see that her eyes betrayed that she seemed to _understand _what he had went through, but they were also reassuring, he would feel no embarrassment about it. With other men, it would cause stir and misunderstanding, but with him it was different. It was if people trusted him almost immediately, a trait shown in King Maric, and his mother and father, even Alistair. Suffice to say he was lucky.


	7. Dinner with the Empress

**Dinner with the Empress**

In Palais Royeaux, luxury was beyond vitality, as soon as Aldanon left the Empress's company, an elven servant introduced himself and offered to lead him to his bedroom and to his friends who had already made themselves comfortable, to which Aldanon accepted willingly. As he saw more of the palace, he became more astonished and impressed similar designs and portraits, motifs and murals and to what he saw on the first level were as plentiful upstairs as well as downstairs. There were a few differences, though; there were more desks laden with candles of numerous shapes and varieties, antiques such as pots and sculptures and miniature statues, antiquities such as family swords which hung on the wall, in addition to portraits of the family. Soon it became certain that he did not need his palace guide, he could hear the boisterous, tongue-in-cheek banter of Oghren and Zevran from a mile off. He made his way to one of their rooms and leaned in the doorway, casually watching their witty repartee from a safe distance.

"I warn you, you bleedin' Antivan! Keep your sodding perversions out of my things, or I'll fart in your room." Oghren's rowdy, gruff voice boomed out, but the elf remained poised an undaunted by the dwarf's threat, knowing he had the upper hand with the incense in Oghren's beard, which he had washed out with a jug of water and his head was dripping readily, and seeping into his black Legion armour.  
"You and what army, stumpy?" challenged Zevran, smugly, but his adversary was not backing down, by this moment he would have grabbed his axe and cleaved him in two, but his weapons had been taken to the smith.  
"Ha! That's a nickname, not an insult. Branka always used to call me that, you skinny bisexual!" he scoffed.  
"When you two are done with the lovers' quarrel, perhaps we could talk" Aldanon interjected, the two opposites quickly spun their heads to face him, their challenging faces becoming casual. "That's better," he resumed "The empress will be seeing us at dinner, 7 o'clock, so that leaves us two hours, which means I will need to dress appropriately for the event. This is something new to me after all; dressing in Orlesian style."

"Well, why the sod have you come to us for?! You interrupted my finishing off the elf." Oghren boomed.  
"You would have to be three feet taller before you could finish me for anything, stocky." The elf retorted and turned to Aldanon, "It just so happens I might be able to help you there." Aldanon's face shot up in surprise "Indeed," Zevran continued "There was this one time when I served the Antivan Crows that I had to pose as a finely dressed squire to an Antivan Count who was on a diplomatic mission to Orlais. The rest of the story is quite long, and you can probably guess it anyway. Nonetheless, I'm your man when it comes to Orlesian finery." Aldanon sighed in relief, "Ah, good," he said, "because I would not want to come down looking to military, the Orlesians will think that's all we are, they always want room for the finer things in life, besides -" He heard footsteps coming towards the room. It was Anora and Marquis Jacques walking side by side in formal discussion. When Jacques met eyes with Aldanon, he bowed respectfully.

"Greetings once again Monsieur Aldanon, I trust you've found Palais Royeaux pleasing?" he asked earnestly.  
"To say the least," Aldanon said beaming at the young noble "However, might I ask of the Duke Claude? He gave me the strangest and rudest comment in that drawing room. Like everything I do seems to offend him."  
"He's fought long and hard to help cease the darkspawn raids in our lands, his brother's death upset him greatly," Jacques told him with a degree of gloom in his voice "He also lost his father during the Orlesian Occupation of your country, he was the Chevalier commander at the battle of River Dane, Claude was just a young man then, they say that it was your Teyrn Loghain who killed him at the battle." Both Aldanon's and Anora's eyes widened in surprise, Aldanon could now see the striking similarity between the two men now.  
"So he distrusts Fereldans on principle?" Anora asked, and Jacques nodded gravely.  
"Anyway," Aldanon changed the subject, "Dinner in Orlais is quite reputable, or so we are told, so we'd like to settle down first and then prepare for dinner." He asserted. Jacques smiled  
"Very well, Monsieur, perhaps we may speak more later." He said, and turned to leave. _Now, to find a decent suit,_ Aldanon thought, _we're going to be here all night._

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When the servants presented the palace's rich collection of dinner suits, Aldanon found himself at a loss for choice. He was surrounded by outfits of many colour and meant for many occasions, but having been at war for many months, and preferring to don his armour, he simply had no method of deciding. He had been studying them for a great deal of time, and his advisor, Zevran was growing impatient, and started pacing to and fro.  
"I don't see anything a sensible man would wear to a dinner party." He concluded, but Zevran stared at him in disbelief. "You are joking!" he exclaimed "You have military officer suits, both naval and army, blazers of differing colours and a refined selection of trousers. That's the gentleman's winning card." Aldanon was unconvinced however, all these elaborate styles and designs were unfamiliar to him, due to Ferelden being a bit set back in terms of style, and continued to ponder them confusedly.

"What it is; is an asphyxiating assault on the body, which inhibits breathing, and limits your posture in uncomfortable ways. As of I was trapped in a drakeskin straightjacket. This is why we have clothes that are more practical than showy in Ferelden." He firmly stated; but his case was still not helping Zevran. "Look, Aldanon, if you don't like any of this stuff, we can always ask Jacques to choose for you."  
"I've told you before, if I let the man choose a suit, he'll chose the showiest one, which in a practical sense will be the hardest on the body." He resumed studying the line of suits carefully, and singled a possible candidate. It was a dark red, ceremonial style cutaway tailored coat over a waist-length satin waistcoat and dark breeches, coupled with a white shirt has a small turnover collar. "What do you think, Zev?" he asked, the elf made a relieved expression and said teasingly; "I think you'd better put it on before the Empress disinvites you."

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Aldanon met Anora at the end of the staircase, and was relieved that he had opted her radiant orange dress and had adorned her usual hairstyle with an assortment of the Empress's pearls. This was one occasion when he felt his marriage to Anora was not as damning as Alistair believed. When they came down to the banqueting hall, Aldanon had never seen such a fantastic array of cuisine in all his life, even the celebratory feasts he had as the young master of Highever were paltry by comparison, and his victory feast in Denerim only just reached the point of extravagance. He was told that Orlsian dinner was never second-best, that was soon to be proven correct. The table must have been 30 feet long and twice as immaculate, neatly laid with a; napkins freshly pressed and decorated porcelain dishes and silver cutlery. When his tongue embraced the stunning display of tastes, he realised what Leliana meant when she would have to eat Ferelden style meals,_ this is too good to be eaten so gracefully,_ he thought, _Maker's breath...I love Orleisan food!_

The assortment of starters was too many to choose from soup de jour to exotic coastal dishes; the diversity of drinks was unbelievable; from wines to ales and an Orleisan specialty; champagne. The main courses, for there were many, were unfathomable, from perfectly roasted meat joints of many varieties to lobster joined by hearty roast potatoes and succulent vegetables. And for dessert; cakes, puddings, fruits, and a selection of cheeses with bread, joined with tea. Aldanon tried to sample as many of these as he could, but found himself at a loss, for he could only go so far despite his hunger. But was reassured laughingly by Celene that he would have his chance the not night.

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He was invited to sit near the head of the table, where the Empress sat; on Celene's right, his opposite sat Claude d'Aubrac in a similar suit; a black military uniform reserved for commanding officers or nobility, decorated with medals of differing statuses. He still carried his taciturn, reserved, Loghain-esque manner, and would consistently refuse conversation with Aldanon, but Aldanon would still occasionally catch him giving him a studying look, and would defer to Celene and the other nobles for conversation. Fortunately, to counter this character was Marquis Jacques, who was dressed much less extravagantly; for he wore a plain coat with wide revers, a small stand-up collar, and deep cuffs._How I'm supposed to become accustomed to all these styles is beyond me, _Aldanon thought.

But as he soon found that while opinions from the nobility varied from honest admiration to conceited disdain, the idea that the Empress would honour and decorate a Fereldan was more disgust than surprise and that it was only a measure of peace. However there was one friend he made with certainty that dinner; Jacques. He believed that the aristocracy should exist to inspire and serve the people as much they served them, and that the Empress could help change that – starting with the poor way in which the Chevaliers treated the peasantry. They were champions of Orlais, not wanton tyrants; at least that's who they were meant to be. Orlais needed to be less imperialistic but remain regal, retaining her individuality. Both Aldanon and Anora agreed on this, but Anora also suggested that Orlais also formed a governmental branch that served the country as the Ferelden Landsmeet did, Jacques protested firmly, stating that Orlais would not abandon traditions in which the aristocracy wields the power; lest the country fall to anarchy. But he did believe that the harsh way in which Orlesian nobles wielded power needed to be remedied.

++++++++++

When Aldanon finished, he retired to the next level to prepare to rest, but before long he caught Zev and Oggers halfway upstairs in mid-banter, something about breaking a wind in a baroness's room.  
"Don't try to blame me, dwarf," the elf retorted blandly, "I didn't ask you to fart in the baroness's room. I was only commenting that it smelt lovely in her bed chamber."  
"Well, what did you honestly expect me to do?" Oghren asked with incredulity, "Waltz in and adorn it with roses and ribbons?" he continued sceptically, Zevran rolled his eyes in exasperation, "But it's supposed to smell lovely, and I was getting to know her. How she's going to get that dwarven smell out of her clothes, I really don't know." But Oghren scoffed, disappointed that his banter-buddy did not take to his crude humour.  
"Oh, sod off!" he grunted finally. Aldanon smiled fondly, entered his bedchamber and was eager to get out of that tight dinner suit and found a set of regal red pyjamas. Once he was finished washing up for the night, he found Anora waiting in his bed, with a silver revealing nightdress, smiling daringly. He knew what it meant.


	8. The Orlesian Wardens

**The Orlesian Wardens**

In dreams, Aldanon treaded carefully across the distorted, obscure, barren and forbidding slopes of the Fade. Ever since his prolonged encounter with the Sloth Demon in the Fade, and acquirement of magical essences that enhanced his abilities, he had a stronger connection with the realm of dreams than he would ever want, so Wynne had explained to him once. Often, Aldanon would turn to his mage companions for advice on the Fade, as it was a realm they could understand more than non-magic folk.

However, here in this dream Aldanon wasn't doing anything in particular, when suddenly a bird's harsh, hoarse cry pierced the chilled, murky atmosphere. He turned up to see a large raven perched on a fade-tree, with black beady eyes and a glint of intelligence. The pitch-black bird swooped down before him, and in a flash of magical light turned into a figure that needed no recollection; Morrigan.

Fear trickled down his spine like melting ice, he remembered Morrigan telling him not to find her, ever, and saw her presence as a breach of that promise he had made. The very last time he saw her was at the Battle of Denerim, blasting the archdemon with a jet of ice before it fell.  
"Morrigan," he began disgruntled; "I understand I was not to follow you, but invading my dreams?"  
"Don't take it so harshly, Aldanon," he retorted wearily, "Do you not remember the good times we spent together?" she asked Aldanon, her tone smoothing out. But Aldanon was untouched and frowned.  
"I think those times were made redundant when you left me." he returned bitterly, luckily for him his anger was enough to melt Morrigan's normally ice-cold heart to regret. Aldanon noticed her change of expression and changed the subject quickly. "How exactly did you leave Fort Drakon anyway?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, you would want to know," Morrigan replied "well, when you were unconscious from your slaying of the archdemon, and as the soldiers were pursuing the retreating darkspawn, I turned to the ledge of the tower and fell off it before the dwarf or the elf could stop me, and transformed into an eagle and flew to freedom." Aldanon stood amazed as she concluded her story; she had a knack for dramatic getaways.  
"Then what brings you back here?" he asked, her look became straightforward and clear-cut.  
"Since you kept the ring I gave you, and through my studying of the Fade, I have been able to create a dream portal in which we can communicate," she explained, "for the news I bring is troubling." Aldanon's heartbeat quickened, but his expression firmed, telling Morrigan to explain what she meant.

"I have used Flemeth's magic and been seeing Val Royeaux in dreams and in animal form and there is trouble afoot. In the dark corners of human minds, there is one who moves to strike you down."  
"What do you mean?" Aldanon asked, confused "Who's this you speak of?"  
"I'm afraid I can't tell for certain, for she has magic at her side as well and to try and come into contact with her might rouse the source and risk my exposure. But beware; what strikes me most is that her intents towards you are not conclusive with your death, and if they succeed, Val Royeaux will fall." The dream dissolved around him.

Aldanon awoke with sweat sunning down his brow like a putrid river, the dream had racked his nerves badly. He left his sweat soaked end of the bed as soon as he realised it's sad condition, he felt bad about ruining something so finely designed even though it was unintentional. The effect of Morrigan's sudden appearance left him ill at ease, not least because he and she used to have romantic involvement, but because he was already developing a closer relationship with Anora.

He snuck out bed and wrapped himself his Redcliffe sleeping gown, and stole to the entrance and into the corridor in search of a warm bath. An early servant, still yawning from the necessity of getting up early, appeared in the before him in the corridor, he clapped his mouth to his eyes, unaccustomed to random traits from Royalty.  
"Do you require bathing, my lord?" he asked cautiously, aware of Aldanon's state.  
"That would be nice." Aldanon shivered; the cooling effects of the sweating taking hold.

++++++++++

As soon as he was cleaned and dressed in a leather cuirass, he encountered his dinner companion Jacques, who was speaking with an armour-clad knight with a Redcliffe shield, reddish hair, defined features and a calm voice. Aldanon recognised Ser Perth immediately, why the knight had not introduced himself when they left Highever was curious. As he strode towards the speakers, their conversation became clarified.  
"My position is head of King Aldanon's retinue, and while I trust his safety in the hands of the Wardens, I would be grateful to escort the king on his errands than remain here with the rest of my men."

"Understandable, Ser Perth, but this is something the king must do by himself. He will be safe among his kin."  
"If Ser Perth wishes the retinue to join me, then what's to stop him?" Aldanon interjected, "I'm all for impressive displays, after all. But what of me requiring a retinue to begin with, Ser Perth?" he shook the knight's hand enthusiastically before he could bow before his king. Perth regained his solemnity,  
"The Empress Celene received word from the Grey Wardens of Orlais that you address them, regarding the 'direst of current affairs' or so I am told." he explained, Aldanon's veins quickened, he feared what this could mean. Was it the fact that he had survived, when Grey Warden lore dictated that he should have died?

"When do I leave?" he asked Perth uncertainly, the knight seemed unaware of his change of emotion.  
"As soon as you're armed and armoured up, and the retinue is ready to march. Anora will be staying here to discuss trade and other political relations with Celene, when you return the Empress will treat both of you with a tour of Val Royeaux's merchant quarter." Aldanon nodded in understanding and set down the corridor to leave.

++++++++++

If there was any one part of the meetings that was to make Aldanon's stomach churn, it was the meeting with the Orlesian Grey Wardens. The feeling of waiting on an inescapable event was what made the feeling worse, the way he saw it, they either learned the truth of his survival which would result in his expulsion, or he tried to convince them that he acquired a manner of help that they could accept.

Ultimately, it seemed like a situation he could not win over, the only hope was that they would be more interested in the situation with the darkspawn, whom had not disappeared, than the reason for his survival. The usual exuberant distractions of Val Royeaux were not enough to calm his uneasiness from the light of the fact that he was in dire trouble, or at least that was his summary of the situation. Usually he would address his friends for advice in the event of trouble, but with only guarding knights to speak to; he would have to contain himself.

++++++++++

Upon getting a good view of the Grey Warden fort, Château-Gris, he was simply astonished; for he was reminded of Soldiers Peak in size and strength, but her condition was untouched and fortified. The symbol of the grey wardens, the griffon, could be seen from the highest of the ramparts in the form of griffon statues and carvings to perched griffon corbels and the griffon banner soaring in the wind. He had not seen so many monuments to the old Wardens' steeds in one place before, this lead him to believe that this castle was made at a time when the mighty steeds still lived and bore the first grey wardens.

Aldanon struggled to attain a complete view of the castle, what he could make out were the great elevated turreted towers, the sweeping walls and the grey tile roof which covered the mighty. Château-Gris was made purely of rare Frostback marble stone, the castle itself sported towering curtain walls, defensive moat filled with water with and arched bridge, and cylindrical flanking towers, with a gatehouse and additional defensive turrets and rows of patrolling sentinels. Atop some of the larger and more prominent towers were great defensive structures which a passing guard referred to as trebuchets. His horse and retinue arrived at the entrance; a herald sounded his horn and another unfurled Aldanon's banner. The guards stirred into action, the knights waited but a few seconds before the great iron-wrought portcullis reluctantly raised open, beckoning them to enter.

++++++++++

Upon entering the vast stone courtyard, Aldanon was even more astonished; the keep was alive with activity; armoured men and women going about their duties, most who were within the courtyard were practicing their combat arts; from swordsmanship, archery, two-handed arms practice, and horsemanship. Their armour was unique from the other soldiers in Val Royeaux, more akin to Alistair's Warden Commander Armour that he had found in Soldier's Peak. The higher ranking officers donned heavy plate steel armour with silver or gold griffons emblazoned upon their breastplates and their shields, and heavy helms with silverite griffon wings or heavy chevalier-acquired visor-guarded armet helmets.

Most of their weapons were longswords of various materials, but some of the more powerful officers sported two handed greatswords. The other soldiers armour ranged from light and studded leathers for the archers, elves and rogues, medium chainmail hauberks, splint and scale mail armour, and barbute or capeline helms for the Warden infantry, and some more privileged humans and dwarves in heavy mail armour. Their weapons were even more various, ranging from traditional swords both great and small, to maces, flails and axes, many whom some dwarves also sported alongside heavy battleaxes and war hammers, and bows and daggers for the rogues and few elves. Further down the courtyard were the stables, and a display of stallions in formation, clad in full barding armour. _Truly, this is an example the Ferelden Grey Wardens should follow_, Aldanon thought.

++++++++++

He and his retinue dismounted their horse and were received by a crowd of squired and wardens in heavy hauberks, as the squires escorted the horses to the stables and the Ferelden Knights gathered in formation behind Aldanon as one of the Orleisan wardens, a man in a silverite hauberk and a griffon helm stepped forth, he removed his helm to reveal well kept darkened hair, a hardened, moustached face with sideburns.  
"Greetings, Aldanon Cousland of Ferelden," his Orlesian accent was not as strong as Celene's or any of her family's and had a toughened quality to it, evidencing years of battling darkspawn wherever he found it. "I am Geoffrey Deren, Warden-Lieutenant of the Orlesian Wardens," he continued, shaking Aldanon's hand, his formalised address seemed put on and uncharacteristic to his stature, similar to Alistair's attempts at formality.

"I hope you've enjoyed your stay so far, my lord?" he asked, Aldanon abandoned his formality; for his nervousness was stayed the moment he entered the courtyard and held memory of Palais Royeaux  
"Absolutely, Lieutenant Geoffrey, I'd even stay here were I not king." He exclaimed enthusiastically, Geoffrey briefly smiled and nodded at the sentiment. But his sombreness quickly took over.  
"The matters we must cover are serious ones, though the Blight ended, the darkspawn have not retreated. With you with us you must decide how the Ferelden wardens will govern the situation. Follow me." Aldanon gestured to Ser Perth and the knights to remain behind, to which they obeyed calmly as he entered the castle.

++++++++++

Within the vast halls of Château-Gris, more amazement awaited Aldanon. The stone walls were decorated with the arms and armour of past wardens, and murals and tapestries stood dedicated to the Grey Warden's history. The hall was illuminated by torch light along the sides and the light of the sun streaking through the windows, and large enough for four arched doorways on each side to wind their way away and graceful stone pillars soaring up to the ceiling.

The rest of the grey wardens were assembling, at their head was an older man with grey linings of hair and a growing grey beard. He was clad in dragonbone plate armour and donned a silverite longsword and a red steel heavy shield and holding a sallet helm in his left hand. The way he carried himself was unique, he seemed to be wearying from having borne the taint for what must have been nearing 30 years, because the first traces of the darkspawn taint were beginning to take hold, but it seemed as if this man's sheer will and determination have sustained him over his years as a Grey Warden.

"Greetings, Aldanon, I am Charles, Warden-Commander of Orlais. While I would extend further pleasantries, there is urgent reason for you to be here." his deep voice became severe and the rest of the wardens started to gather around him, Aldanon felt the familiar chill down his spine return but maintained his calm bearing.  
"The fact that you survived and encounter with the archdemon that should have naturally been your death, would raise many immediate questions." he continued, Aldanon felt an instinctive urge to admit the truth of his survival,_ is this it_? He thought bitterly. "But the truth is we simply have no time." Charles concluded, and Aldanon let out a sigh of relief could unintentionally be heard by the other wardens. "It turns out that the darkspawn have taken our priority, so I have summoned the wardens and you here to take council."

As he said, the other wardens joined around a circular table and he turned to sit at its head and beckoned Aldanon to sit by him. As soon as the hall was silent he began. "Though you have succeeded in stemming the Blight, Aldanon, the darkspan remain at large, the ones that were either strong or intelligent enough to withstand the dragon's death remained behind or returned to the surface. As a result they scattered themselves across parts of Orlais, areas like the Dales and the Heartlands. Hunting them down has been the task of many knights but the fiefdoms have suffered as a result. While the records show of some darkspawn remaining after a Blight, never before has such a great number been seen. Reports are coming in of attacks along the Imperial Highway, and the Empress has called for all chevaliers to rally at Val Royeaux to defeat the darkspawn there, with our aid." He paused and Aldanon sat still, his face hardened like stone, this was more than he had feared and suddenly believed that all this disaster had something to do with his intervention and capture of the Archdemon's soul.

"But, if there's a large darkspawn horde on the move," he began, plainly alarmed, "has anyone had any indication of what could be leading them? Like a powerful darkspawn or just ravening instincts?" he asked.  
"We do not know, a few of our scouts have ventured close enough to tap into the darkspawn group mind and there's a hint of intelligence that's motivating them. One of our men even reported something even stranger; a darkspawn that talks." To this the entire hall broke into frightened murmurs, and Aldanon stared bewildered.

"What do you mean 'talks'? Do you mean actual words or simply darkspawn gobbledegook?" he asked,  
"So far as we know its actual words, and there's a sinister intelligence to it that seems to be mustering the darkspawn. And this is the most urgent part; the darkspawn that roam the Orleisan countryside are mustering in the heartlands between Val Foret and Val Royeaux." This was met by another surge of frightened murmurs and grim looks from the wardens. Aldanon's insides trembled and churned, he truly had no idea of darkspawn movement in Thedas, their presence was not detectable but they evidently posed a significant enough threat to muster the Orlesian army.

The Blight may have ended, but their presence was not diminished, and now they were being led by forces that were both unknown to the wardens and most likely powerful, yet this was not an archdemon; that made them more dangerous than ever. But Aldanon regained his sense of reality around him and for a moment searched his feelings for an appropriate question.  
"According to your estimates, Charles, how many darkspawn number this horde?" he asked,  
"We can only guess around several thousand of them, and the horde is mustering to attack Val Royeaux. The horde is not large enough to take Val Royeaux, but large enough to test the defenders. This is why we need you here, Aldanon; to rejoin your brothers and finish the darkspawn in Orlais, politics, leisure and ceremonies are transitory. Normally we would elect the relevant Warden Commander, but with you as king and warden our chances can double." Aldanon continued to stare into his aged eyes, mulling all that he had been told.

"What must I do, commander?" he rose from his chair, action taking over. Charles smiled and rose from his chair, and with a gesture of his hand a group of wardens assembled before him. Geoffrey was among them, alongside a tattooed Dalish elven archer with dark plaited hair and bronzed skin clad in the traditional leathers of her people and carried herself with the same fierce pride as the rest of her people. Another elf with paler skin, softer features and dark, well kept hair in red elaborate robes that marked him an elf of the Circle of Magi, but his most defining feature was a black flame tattoo over his right eye. There was a stout dwarf with a great black beard in dwarven Legion plate armour with a war axe and round silverite shield; he looked more like a war machine than a dwarf in all that armour. And a huge man with sharp features and black stubble clad in red steel chainmail and with a longsword in one scabbard and a shortsword in the other, his conduct seemed brusque and uninviting.

"These wardens are to be under your command, Aldanon. Take them to Palais Royeaux and keep them with you at all times. I must remain here to instruct the Wardens here. However, they will be our main contact link as we prepare for battle. You can continue to go about your time in the city, all I ask is that you take up your arms in purpose of war when the darkspawn come. Until then, bonjour." He bowed his head respectfully and Aldanon returned the courtesy, and the old commander dismissed the crowd and left the hall. Any further questions did not need answering from Charles. But perhaps Morrigan could be of help.


	9. Across the Waking Sea

**Across the Waking Sea**

For the _Sea Dragon_ to get into Val Royeaux, all nearby sea traffic had to be grounded or diverted for her to pass by. This included fishing ships, trade ships and ferries. For one intrepid traveller, the same one who stopped at the Silver Antler near Lydes, this meant every problem in the world. Her undying resolution to get to the capital would not stop because of a minor change in sea traffic. At Lydes dock, the local Baron had ordered all sea traffic to be halted due to the arrival of an ambassador ship from Ferelden.  
"Surely you can't abide by this, captain;" she addressed the captain calmly, yet with a note of impatience in her voice "Surely you would not sit idly by just because of another large ship coming in. You would sail across and claim your sovereigns at the appointed time" this tactic would normally work on most men, her sweet, velvety and heart-warming voice had that effect on most men when she wanted it to be, but this man was more interested in abiding by the law of the local lord then doing what a strange girl told him.  
"For the last time, mademoiselle," he said firmly "This ship is not going anywhere until we are permitted to cross by the Baron. They are his orders, not mine. What strikes me as curious is the fact that you seem more desperate to reach the capital than anyone." The girl was in no mood for excuses, but neither was he.  
"I've already told you, my mother is sick and dying, I need to get back to her with these herbs to heal her." She claimed firmly, if almost pleadingly. The captain shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"Look, I'm no fool, woman! I don't see or smell any such herbs on you, and the nose for it runs in my family. Just wait until the Baron declares it safe." The young woman stormed off the pier down the road out of the docks. _This is appalling progress_; she thought to herself, _how am I going to get to Val Royeaux?_

++++++++++

Later that day, she had managed to acquire a view of the docks from a hill a few hundred yards away, and unwrapped her lunch and let loose from her backpack a small pink creature with whiskers and rabbit-like ears; a nug, which she kept referring to as Schmooples, to feed on the grass. The Lydes docks were quite beautiful in the early sunlight, the dew on the grass leaving a golden glistening in the sunlight, and the torrential waves rocking to and fro along the beach. From across the Waking Sea could be seen the very edge of Val Royeaux, amidst the sweeping hills and mountains that surrounded her. The town of Lydes itself was alive with activity, and she could see the merchants calling out to sell their wares, guardsmen on patrol, and commoners at work, to think this could have all been destroyed by the Blight. She was an extraordinary traveller; taking joy in the little things and able to extend kindness to strangers, it radiated a charm that enchanted the people she spoke with.

++++++++++

She had waited for some time before she noticed another small trade ship, a small schooner built for speed and light trade, preparing to leave, and a finely dressed man talking, who she decided was the Baron, and a group of scruffier men who were similar to the ones preparing the ship; the sailors. She packed her food and her nug, wrapped her chantry robe tightly, raised her hood and ventured down the hill. Choosing to slip past the buildings and she managed to venture close enough to listen in to their conversation. It seemed as if they were being given permission to set sail by the reluctant Baron. This was her chance to get on board, while the other men were distracted. She carefully, yet hastily snuck onto the pier, like a cat slinking into hiding. Looking carefully behind her as the crew set about to leave, her brown chantry robe helped her not to stand out. With a few quick movements, she leaped aboard and stole below deck.

It was dark, damp, dank, drear, and dull below deck, where our traveller remained for her voyage. She managed to use her cleverly concealed dagger to carve a hole in the ship's hull large enough to see the sea around her. For a while nothing could be seen, and she began to grow dissatisfied. Suddenly, great bugles could be heard. She stirred about, trying to find the source through her looking-hole when suddenly a huge ship blocked her view. She could not see more other than the ornately carved hull of the vessel. Dissatisfied, she cast aside her chantry robe, revealing a set of very brazen leather armour, which highlighted her graceful, slender body and features. She swung her bow and backpacks across her back and dashed for the exit.

Once out, she could see the soldiers running frantically across the ship, as if they were under attack, fortunately for her this meant they would not notice her. She could see Val Royeaux's mighty body much closer now, roughly a few miles away and close to landing. The ship was veering starboard very roughly, away from the city docks, for on her left could be seen a giant vessel with a prow shaped as a High Dragon's head, an ornately carved hull, and a strange flag bearing the Cousland symbol and other Ferelden heraldry. She recognised her as a war vessel but she wasn't engaging any aggressive manoeuvres. Aboard the new vessel, she could hear Ferelden accents shouting from across the distance, none of them she recognised though. Suddenly it seemed as if the sunlight glinted aboard the ship, for on board was a man clad in golden armour with a dragon's head carved upon it. The man had neat dark hair and a fine moustache and carried himself with a familiar nobility. She would have recognised him if he was covered in darkspawn blood; Aldanon Cousland.

++++++++++

Leliana broke into a fit of joy, she laughed and leaped about, calling Aldanon's name but to no avail, the trade ship continued on her course away from the _Dragon_. Her heart began to sink. She had always remembered and respected Aldanon because he had always taken the best possible course to achieve good ends, even after she learned of his involvement with Morrigan and would not fault him. When he became engaged to Anora, she encouraged him saying that some good could still come of it. Ever since she left him in Denerim, and learning of Morrigan leaving him, she still supported him; but now there was something new about him. There was now a new objective: get to Aldanon.

Suddenly one of the soldiers noticed her and drew his cutlass, fearing her to be a spy and a stowaway. Faster than lightning, she drew her two silverite daggers. The draw blocked the sailor's cutlass. Their blades tore through the air as one tried to cut the other up. But Leliana needed to get away and off the ship, to her left she noticed a barrel of grease. Suddenly she leaped atop it, the sailor swiped at her legs but she had already leapt from the top of the barrel to deck. With a swift, strong kick, the barrel had knocked him to his knees and covered him in slippery grease. The rest of the sailors swiftly noticed her presence, and drew their blades. Leliana scrambled like a cat onto the rigging, up the crow's nest, and cut the ropes down before the sailors could reach her. But she was far from safe, archers were loading their arrows, and preparing to fire.

She sprung to the next mast and unfolded an arrow that was coiled in a special, extra hard elvish rope; she was going to jump ship and try to board the _Dragon_. The archers were positioning themselves and the other sailors were climbing up. She worked quickly to fasten the arrow, and fired onto the _Dragon_'s topmost mast, which was now beginning to shrink as she sailed further away. She spoke a silent prayer as the arrow soared across the growing distance. It hit it's marl. She thrust herself from the smaller ship, flying perilously across the water. She let go. And just then, she landed on the higher deck of the _Dragon_, all hands were busy and did not seem to notice her for there were several other women sailor there, so she was safe. For now.


	10. Friends Old and New

**Friends Old and New**

Aldanon sat on an armchair by the hearth, his eyes lost in the dance of the fire, and his thoughts just as much, for he was still taking in the Warden Commander's words. He knew that there were small bands of darkspawn in the lands, but a whole horde in Orlais? And what was all this talk about a darkspawn that spoke? These questions and more hung on his head, unable to find answers. But it wasn't the fear of darkspawn approaching the city that worried him, but Morrigan's words that there was a greater force hidden behind these events. He felt a hard, mail-clad hand hit his pauldron, he looked up and saw Geoffrey had returned with a series of maps in his hand.  
"We need to discuss strategy, Aldanon." He said stoically, Aldanon nodded and joined him.

Aldanon followed Geoffrey to one of the towers in the castle, which when shown was the war room, there were warden tacticians planning around a large, round wooden table, where a huge cloth map of Orlais was positioned, there were also an exceptional number of book cases situated around its walls, most likely history books detailing famous battles. For the next few hours there, he would be deliberating with the other wardens of the possible numbers of the impending darkspawn, the numbers of defenders in Val Royeaux, city defences, and possible aid. From what he could learn, Geoffrey was able to draw up a strategy. The darkspawn were approaching from the Heartlands in the southwest and had passed Val Foret, so the first thing to have done was form the Grey Wardens and the city soldiers along the walls of the city to hold them off, while the Empress's chevaliers would position themselves along the Imperial highway, away from the horde.

Aldanon suggested meeting them in the open at Val Foret, but was assured that they were heading straight to Val Royeaux, and given her size and defences their chances would be better. He also suggested calling the soldiers of Montfort to come, due to their being situated along the Imperial Highway, and so could come in great speed, it was soon validated. Once the darkspawn had committed themselves, a scout would alert the chevaliers to charge from the north, and another to encircle the horde and charge from the west, crushing the darkspawn between the sea and the city.

Realistically, it was well conceived, but it reminded Aldanon too much of Ostagar, and how Loghain ignored the belated signal fire from the tower. Geoffrey recognised that anything could go wrong, but assured him that treachery at critical military moments would be treason. But the reason they needed Aldanon with them, was to get to Celene and convince her to consent to sending the Orlesian army, for he was already in good company with her. Once they had settled the decisions Aldanon set forth with Geoffrey.

++++++++++

He met his knights in the courtyard, who were given permission to practice their skills with the wardens, and won. His group was assembled by the portcullis, the elven mage, the dalish ranger, the dwarven soldier, and the gruff weapon specialist.  
"Wardens, attention!" Geoffrey barked; they stood smartly to it, breasting a hand to their chest in the formal Grey Warden salute, bowing their heads at their new commander, but Aldanon gestured them to be at ease.  
"Rest assured, my fellow wardens that I look forward to fighting alongside you against the blighted creatures," Aldanon addressed them in his usual charismatic greeting, "Just as I got to know Warden Commander Alistair, I intend to do the same here," he stepped towards the young elven mage with a casual smile, and said "Greetings, may I know your name?" the mage stood straight and answered;

"Osecar of the Ferelden Circle of Magi, Lord Aldanon." He spoke in a numinous Ferelden elf accent, Aldanon was quite taken aback and had expected an Orlesian mage, his curiosity was peaked.  
"Indeed?" he asked intently, "I don't seem to recall seeing you at the Ferelden Circle tower, do you know Senior Enchanter Wynne?" the mage nodded, a familiar smile on his face, brushing a loose hair strand aside.  
"I know Wynne, she was my tutor for most of my life there before I was harrowed. As for why I wasn't at the tower, Irving sent me on a mission to Orlais to find out why the Orlesian Wardens were being stopped by Loghain, at Wynne's behest. I ended up hunted by Loghain's knights around the mountains until they crossed Orlesian ground and the wardens took me in, warning me that I would be hunted if I returned, and offered to take me. My specialization in primal spells won me my place with them, and they are yours." He bowed his head in respect, and Aldanon moved to the dwarf, who was clad in dragonbone dwarven plate.

"Allow me to spare you some time," he began before Aldanon could start, in a deep, hoarse voice, "I am Durin of House Dainur, distant cousin of the royal family, and warrior caste, once of the Legion of the Dead before I ended up topside here in Orlais and found the wardens, by accident. I've fought more darkspawn than most of these wardens have. But my axe is yours." He bowed his head in respect and Aldanon moved to the next warden, who raised his hand to prevent greeting, in orer to cut to the main business.

"Argeles is my name, sir." He said in a rural orlesian accent, "I'm expert with the sword and dagger, and once of the Orlesian army. But I chose to serve a wiser course, by becoming a Warden when word of the Blight reached me, only I survived the Joining." He nodded and Aldanon turned to last but not least, the elf, who ignored his bid for greetings. Aldanon stood stunned by this, he was familiar with the Dalish distrust for humans, but she was a Grey Warden first and foremost, racial jargon was irrelevant, and so he tried again.

"Fine, if you must know," she submitted to him, in her calm, but unmoved voice "my name is Elanea, hunter of the Dalish tribe of Mearasthra. At least until my clan was ambushed by darkspawn, I was found by Osecar, who was wandering the Dales at the time. I answer only to him, for he's elven and a good man. Respect my solitude, and my bow will aid you." She did not bow her head, but Osecar prompted her to do it. Aldanon moved eagerly away from her, for he hadn't forgotten the guilt he felt when he first met the Dalish. The knights had gathered around him and the grey wardens around Geoffrey, and Aldanon's horse was ready to go.

++++++++++

The Empress told him to meet the Royal group in the Merchant Quarter of Val Royeaux, and to ease the passing through the city on foot, he had asked the knights to take his horse back to the palace and to return there, and that he would be safe in the company of his new grey wardens. Whilst travelling, he managed to learn a lot from them, primarily their abilities in battle and their personal interests. Geoffrey's weapon art was focused in the traditional sword and the shield, in his spare time he collected figurines of some of Thedas's most magnificent creatures like dragons, griffons and phoenixes.

Osecar had recently uncovered the ancient Arcane Warrior arts from dalish ruins, combining it with his elemental spell craft had created a fearsome reputation, he also enjoyed collecting magical artefacts out of personal enjoyment, which he studied for enchantment. Elanea was as the most skilled with the bow in her tribe, and as a ranger could call wild beasts to her side, Aldanon even managed to learn that she was nonetheless curious of the human world and enjoyed books concerning their history. Durin was the finest shield arm in the Legion and mastered the war axe, and had a unique taste for special cuts of meat, similar Oghren's love of alcohol. And Argeles was the Wardens' dual weapon fighter fighter, he also collected daggers and assortments of armour which he said was cobbling together to form a composite set of armour to enable maximum use of his weapons.

By the time he arrived at the Market District, he was reminded of Denerim's market district and the Orzammar commons, and realised how they both paled in comparison. There were shops and stalls lining every street, the most common ones being clothes shops, where suits and dresses could be seen in each and every one of the shops' windows, and the people who walked the many avenues were akin to how Leliana would often describe them; the women were dressed in the most tempting dresses they could afford, and the hairstyles, which followed the many trends at the time, ranged from inanely exuberant to simple and natural. The gentlemen would clad themselves in striking suits, often with a weapon of choice, purely for show of course, and besting other men in friendly tournaments to the amusement of their ladies of choice. And judging by the growing number of interested girls, it seemed Aldanon was no worse for wear. But the company he kept, and the firm looks of their fathers kept them at bay, it seemed Fergus was mistaken.

There were so many shops to satisfy everybody's taste that it gave Aldanon an idea; to help the new wardens become more akin to friends than colleagues, he would take advantage of the market's treasures. Before he could move to any particular shop, a familiar sight caught his eye, an elderly woman with silver hair, a gently wrinkled face, with a silver staff slung across her back and familiar red robes. But this time, she seemed more frustrated than usual, for she was haggling with a merchant about a strange looking artefact. Once he had a good enough view he knew for certain; it was Wynne. Without a moment's thought, he dashed across the market road towards her.

++++++++++

"I assure you, madam, six sovereigns is too low a price for a quality shop like this one!" the merchant argued to Wynne, whose brow was furrowed with annoyance, and sighed impatiently.  
"Your prices are too high, merchant. In Ferelden, seven sovereigns would be bordering profiteering! Six is a decent enough price, and the same could apply to all your wares, you would still make a healthy living." She appraised the merchant, almost persuasively, but the merchant huffed angrily.  
"Look, if I wanted a lecture I would have returned to my old schoolmaster. Either buy it or don't, madam, but it won't matter. Your Ferelden ideals don't mean anything here."  
"Maybe not, but does seven sovereigns mean something?" Aldanon asked past Wynne, who turned with surprise and gasped in joy. Aldanon opened his arms; she flew into them, chuckling delightedly. Before long she remembered the last time they saw each other, he was named Anora's king-consort, and nearly bowed.  
"Please, Wynne, no need," Aldanon said, "I am just as pleased to see you again too." Wynne's smile had almost melted his heart, and she was almost at loss for words.

"To think that you were coming to Orlais for any reason would have left me to believe otherwise," she said, "What brings you here? Is this grey warden or kingly business?" she gestured towards the new grey wardens who stood where he left them confused, except Osecar who joined them, smiling to see his old mentor.  
"Wynne, welcome to Orlais," he embraced her fondly, "You're probably wondering what happened after I left the tower." He said to Wynne, whose expression became more serious and troubled.  
"I do, but there's also more that you must know, and once we find somewhere indoors for me to tell you." Aldanon remembered what she meant, and of the nasty business at the Circle Tower with the mages nearly wiped out, but he was eager to delay that for another time.  
"Anyway," he interjected "Empress Celene told me to meet her around here, perhaps you would like to join me Wynne?"  
"Of course, and by your mention of Empress Celene, how could I refuse?" she chuckled, and joined Aldanon's side. Osecar's newfound acquaintance with Aldanon would make this most interesting, and that he had a new band of adventurers at his side, proved to be too irresistible an adventure for Wynne.


	11. Afternoon's Rest

**Afternoon's Rest**

Aldanon managed to gain some time to talk with Wynne, and she told him that after delivering Shale to Tevinter, she sought to enjoy the last few years if not months of her life. After Tevinter, she travelled south through Nevarra before finally settling in Val Roeyaux over a two month phase. Based off what Aldanon could remember about Empress Celene's instructions, they were to meet the royal group in the northern part of the Merchant Quarter, but the intrigued looks on his new companions faces kept him waiting for them. Often Aldanon and Wynne would smile at their enthusiasm appreciatively, remembering that they were still rather young people like Alistair and himself, rather than grizzled and stoic like Duncan or Riordan, that there was another side to the duty and honour part of the grey warden life, the part of their lives that they would learn to cherish.

He contemplated what Alistair had said about when he was with the old Ferelden grey wardens that they were quite a group, in his own words, and really enjoyed themselves, like the time when the Anderfel warden Gregor bested them all at a drinking contest by a pint for every one of their half pints, treating every free moment like it was their last. Aldanon had known that they knew what would eventually come. Wynne also reminded him how he had taken to Morrigan's allure, and eventually approved to it, but Aldanon insisted that they kept off that subject. He loved Morrigan, and Anora was more like an old colleague, and he told Wynne that while romantic measures were taken before, but they seldom ever truly worked.

++++++++++++

He continued to survey the crowds until he heard the sound of applause coming from the Palace Way; Empress Celene and her courtiers, Anora, and Zevran and Oghren bickering heatedly, were striding through the crowds of elated citizens. It was clear that Celene was a popular ruler with the people, known as the one who had moved Orlais into an age of art and beauty, public appearances were commonplace and to the joy of the public, nobles and commoners alike. Aldanon and his party meandered towards them, and bowed to Celene and her party, the wardens followed jointly. Celene paced towards Aldanon, gesturing him to rise.

"Ah, Aldanon, it's good you've joined us, we feared the wardens were taking you up." she said in her usual serene voice, stealing a kiss on the hand from Aldanon while Anora was rapt by the beauty of the market.  
"There is a matter of procedure I would like to discuss with you on the wardens' behalf, Celene," he began calmly, "About their enemy returning to threaten the city and must be dealt with." He added gravely, Celene nodded, her expression sombre. She knew what Aldanon meant, and cast her head down in thought.  
"Soon, perhaps during the next set of discussions, but first enjoy yourself in the market." She said finally. She bid Aldanon farewell and moved off with while he turned his attention to Anora, and embraced her warmly.

"The conferences, how did they go?" he asked, somewhat eagerly, Anora stared at him surprised.  
"They actually went quite well, the Empress agreed to my terms of allowing most of their tailor-made goods come to Ferelden in exchange for Ferelden's newest inflow of dalish and dwarven crafted weapons. She also consented to Ferelden gaining the mountain valleys beyond Jader, which is soon to be the main centre of Ferelden and Orlaisan trade!" her voice rose to excited scopes and pulled Aldanon in for a kiss, which took him by surprise to say the least. Once things cooled down a bit, he moved towards the still bickering dwarf-elf duo.  
"I told you once, I told you a thousand times, dwarf," Zev disputed hotly "You are about as much a ladies' man as my hair is a mabari's tail." The dwarf madly laughed off the elf's choice of words.

"That's because it is you skinny weasel, and I'm about to prove that once and for all with my newly developed Orlesian language of love. HA!" he pointed, Just as Aldanon approached them both.  
"Hello, you two." He interposed; they stopped and turned, and only succeeded in drawing him in.  
"There you are, I was about to prove this dwarf's social graces for all to see." Zevran nudged at Oghren.  
"Ha! I would have expected that from you," he grunted, and turned to Aladnon, "hey Aldanon, I've been learning some Orlesian pickup lines for the ladies, heh._ Syphilitique nuget!_" he added hoarsely, Aldanon stared at him, confused. "What do you think about that, eh? Eh?" he added enthusiastically, Aldanon looked sick.

"You just called Aldanon a syphilitic nug, Oghren." Zevran smiled craftily, Aldanon sensed he had something to do with Oghren's new language development. Just then the other wardens; Geoffrey, Argeles, Osecar, Durin and Elanea approached with confused looks evident across their faces, Zevran's humour turned to indignity.  
"Ah, I see it didn't take that long for you to replace us." He said in a toneless voice.  
"They're not replacements, Zev, they're just new companions." Aldanon replied defensively. Suddenly, he Oghren yelled out in defiance and trundled off towards a pair of finely dressed, rather attractive, noble's daughters. Zevran chuckled and leaned on Aldanon's shoulder. Osecar and the others gathered around Zevran.

"I've been treating our dwarven friend to a new language of love, now let us watch and observe." Just as Oghren had strutted up to them, he began uttering a long string of sentences in orlesian. _You, yeah you, lend me your rears! Your rears! _He said hideously, gesturing at their chests, the girls glared at him disgusted, _find your own cravings and go away!_ One of them slapped him so hard he made an audible grunt. Aldanon stood there staring in shock with Zevran leaning smugly on his shoulder looking on at the scene as Oghren continued. _This is not a goat's tail! _He gestured at his trousers, one girl wailed in disgust and almost fainted, the other called out; _the dwarf's gone mad! Call the guards!_ A pair of guards looked suspiciously at the mad dwarf, but Oghren reacted quickly and called out to them;_ No! Don't call the pigs! Lend me your rears!_ He persevered, and advanced in mock menace towards them; _Brontos are in my bed! Many, many brontos!_ Before he could proceed the two guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him off, still cursing in Orlesian.

++++++++++++

When Zevran finished laughing at the dwarf's predicament, Aldanon frowned at him, clearly not amused by the act.  
He folded his arms and stared at Zevran, "You're a real douche, and you know it!" He growled grimly.  
"Who cares, he got arrested!!" he screamed gleefully and collapsed laughing. Elanea stared at Aldanon.  
"Does this sort of thing happen all the time between your companions?"she asked, utterly staggered.  
"More often than you think." Aldanon answered shortly, and the archer's tall brow shot up an inch. Geoffrey changed the subject with urgency. "Did you speak with the Empress? What did she say?" he asked.  
"Well, she said she would talk about it once we returned to Palais Royeaux, but until then the Market is ours to enjoy." Aldanon said with an enthusiasm rising with the mention of the market.

With Oghren trying to escape his fate, the group could enjoy peace from the rowdy dwarf. Anora had given Aldanon a fresh supply of sovereigns to spend in the market, the first thing we wanted to do was to find presents for the new companions in order to let them warm up to him. He went with Wynne, Osecar and Geoffrey to a Magical Artefacts store called _The Lyrium Orb _and with Wynne's advice, he learned what Osecar specifically liked and gave him a staff that Wynne had been saving for his return and a tome of spell craft.

Geoffrey also expressed an interest for a marble high dragon figurine, a granite cerberus carving and an amber phoenix that was warm to the touch, Aldanon bought them all and the two friends was quite thankful for his consideration, he also spotted a book that contained much of Orlais' history put into bardic song, and another of the creatures that walked Thedas, a perfect gifts for Elanea. Argeles was taken to the blacksmith shop; _Chevalier's Arms_ and Aldanon bought him a pair of drakeskin scabbards for his blades, a new helmet, and an enchanted set of chainmail gauntlets. When found an inn to eat, Durin wanted an expensive lamb course which the house allowed him to finish outside the Inn, which Aldanon paid for; the grateful dwarf gave him one of his lamb bones to gnaw on._ His taste is rather odd_, Aldanon thought.

When he managed to catch a quiet moment with Elanea, he presented the books. At first she brusquely responded to this as an attempt to buy her loyalty, but Aldanon firmly told her to refuse the gifts if she did not want them, ultimately she could not refuse and accepted them. He only wanted her to understand that he would wish no ill on her for any reason.

++++++++++++

Zevran, ever the wily rogue, saw an exotic charm in Elanea, to resist her wild beauty proved too much for him. As they rested in the inn, he casually weaved his way towards her, a bold smile on his face.  
"Tell me, Elanea, what was your role in your Dalish tribe?" he asked smoothly, the charm working.  
"Well, once I was the best hunter in the tribe, indeed the finest in the Tirashan wilds." She said, fixing on him.  
"In my day, I was considered the wildest youth in Antiva City." He said, his exotic voice washing over her, "And hunters specialize in wild beasts." He added cheekily, Elanea smiled at his notion.  
"That's true," she said, "But when it comes to who's hunter and who's hunted, you can never be certain."  
"Truly, so am I to be your prey?" Zevran asked, grinning, Elanea was not used to this foreign way of love.  
"Assassins are akin to hunters, are they not?" she asked, letting it come, "I rather think we would be competing for prey rather than hunting. Perhaps we can indulge in such matters outside." The two elves departed for the street. Aldanon and Wynne who had seen the flirtations shared confused looks with each other and shrugged.

Oghren returned, he was drained from his encounter from the guards, and eyed Zevran with his new escort, growled and charged headfirst, roaring as he went, yelling "I'm gonna kill you!!" Zevran saw the threat and dodged the charging fist, but Oghren careered into Durin, who had just finished his roast, and immediately ended up sprawled out on the floor. The two dwarves looked up at each other and recognised each other.  
"Wait, I do know you, the mad dwarf of House Branka!" Durin bellowed in fury, clenching his fists.  
"Durin, I think I owe you a flagon for the face!" Oghren growled; reaching for a nearby mug of ale and aiming for Durin's nose, the next thing he knew, he was on his side with a heavy dagger pommel bruise on his head.  
"I want no fighting here; we're wardens first and foremost." Argeles chided, the dwarves looked up at him  
"Yeah well, we're dwarves first, and dwarven matters come first. Right, Durin?" Oghren turned to Durin  
"Right," The dwarven warden replied, and threw a hit for Oghren's forehead. Argeles sighed angrily.  
"A taverb brawl is just a waste of our time and resources." he said flatly, with an edge of anger.  
"This is going to be a waste of my time and resources but I'm going to do it anyway." Oghren walked up to him, leapt up and headbutted the other warden in the head, at this Durin rammed him into the bar.

The rest of the group turned to see the two dwarves brawling across the tavern and others joining in, while the minstrels changed their tune. The two dwarves obviously sparred before, but the way they ducked and dodged every blow was astonishing, considering they were inhibited by alcohol. Durin only managed to get Oghren in the infamous dwarven-headlock once, but his rival managed to inflict the beard-grab-of-pain, "Not the beard!" Durin yelled. In the end, both settled for the Tapster's wrestle-rustle. Geoffrey would have stopped them under normal conditions, but he admitted to have enjoyed the scene of the two dwarves. Osecar on the other hand was getting anxious of being arrested and was permitted to discreetly use a sleep spell to knock Durin and Oghren unconscious. His timing was perfect, just as the two dwarves threw their finishing hits, they appeared to collapse form fatigue.

++++++++++++

Aldanon had to request to use his carriage to transport the sleeping dwarves back to the palace, while he borrowed a guardsman's horse and told the others he would meet them at the palace. On his way out of the Market, he spotted a strange sight; a young woman in scarlet hair and skin like sunlight, he tried to get a better look, trying to confirm his suppositions, but she had already melted into the crowd. It was the middle of the afternoon, and everyone was able to satisfy their hunger with a light lunch before getting a rest in their rooms, and here was his chance to talk to Empress Celene. He called Geoffrey to her conference hall; she had called Duke Claude d'Aubrac to voice his opinion on the matter. Aldanon stepped forth and cleared his throat.

"Empress Celene, as much as I appreciate the hospitality you've shown me, I fear I must ask this boon from you; the darkspawn are returning, the grey wardens have sensed it. Not in a Blight, but seemingly a mindless assault, not enough to destroy your city but enough to require her defences be tested. This is what the Grey Wardens have been tasked of, but this is where you come in: the Grey Wardens request the military aid of Val Royeaux's army and that of the surrounding provinces." Celene stared at him severely, but she could tell this was no easier for Aldanon, much less considering that he was doing it on Charles' behalf.

"You dare to ask this of a foreign monarch, Fereldan?!" d'Aubrac abruptly cursed, his disdain dominating the room, for he was clearly unmoved. "After all we've provided for you, you still want more from us!! Perhaps you should join your kind on the battlefield without the aid you seek. Let them do something honourable alone."  
"You know as well as anyone that that's not possible," Aldanon viciously scowled down the duke, "If you do not wish to protect your city, you can always retreat back to your duchy." He added, tauntingly.  
"Enough!" The empress raised her voice to both the men, "It's the ruling monarch who decides the course to take." She approached Aldanon and nodded; "I will honour the request of the Grey Wardens, Val Roeaux's hosts will assemble to defeat the wretched darkspawn. I trust the word of the wardens and of this man's." Aldanon bowed his head courteously; "You have the thanks of Ferelden and the Wardens, Empress Celene, how long until the armies have mustered?" he asked, Celene thought to herself.

"They will be ready to march in roughly three days. If I may take your battle plans, Duke Claude will begin enlisting the army to get underway." She said. Aldanon bowed his head once more and left, but not without throwing a derisive look at the ill-tempered Duke. Once outside, Geoffrey caught a chance to shake his hand.  
"You've done us a great favour, Aldanon. Val Royeaux will soon stand ready to defeat the darkspawn. It happened much readily than I suspected." Aldanon nodded, an ill feeling suddenly swelling up inside him.  
"It's good that it's been resolved so quickly, but such things seldom come at a cost. When we took part in the Battle of Ostagar, we thought we would end the darkspawn horde there and then, but it all fell apart, the grey wardens and the king died in one fell swoop. I fear something is bound to go wrong." He said morosely with a furrowed brow, and stared out from the window across the city.


	12. Return Home

**Return Home**

Once Leliana had gotten off the waterfront and truly assimilated into Val Royeaux's atmosphere, she felt she was home again, like a long nightmare that turned to a dream and a nightmare again had faded away and she was back in reality. Despite having been in Ferelden, she allowed the customary Orlesian habits take hold once again. She even felt entirely Orlesian again; her hair was longer and redder, invigorated with life, she quickly picked up on the current trends and fashions like she never actually left. She even managed to go to a hairdresser's to mimic the latest hairstyle, and later that day she competed with another bard in a musical challenge and won. She managed to get a room at one of the most renowned inns in the city; the Fleur-de-lis, which she was able to afford due to a stash of gold elsewhere in the city, near where her and Marjolaine operated. As for company, she managed to catch up on some friends from her youth in the city, she would never remember how ecstatic they were to see her again. For they were ones who never believed the lies about being the murderer the posters claimed her to be. At one point while shopping in the Market District, she caught a glimpse of Aldanon and a group of who must have been grey wardens. She wanted to go after him, but the lure of a new dress drew her away, and by the time she had a good look, he was gone.

++++++++++

There was even an instance when she was able to satisfy her old thrill of the chase in roguery; a posh, portly baron came marching by as she was on an afternoon stroll. The fat lump of a man had pockets so full, alienage elves where dashing for them before the guards had them removed. She followed the man as casually as possible, waiting for him to reach his estate. As he pulled out his key, she 'accidentally' bumped into him; he was so fat the silver ropes that guarded his pockets and pouches loosened. She apologised to him as charmingly as she could, and tactfully made off with one of his coin pouches. He never knew what hit him.

The trouble was that Leliana was still regarded as a criminal in the city, declared a murderer and the thief by the high nobleman, Duke Claude d'Aubrac, now married to Empress Celene. When she lived in the city with Marjolaine, he was renowned as respected, if somewhat superior in his temperament; Marjolaine even introduced Leliana to him. That was because of her intricate weavings within the aristocracy that allowed her to be in close contact with him. Fortunately there were much fewer guards than last she was there, for the news of the day was that Empress Celene endorsed sending Orlesian military to aid the grey wardens, at the request of King Aldanon. At one point she considered making an appearance at Palais Royeaux to surprise Aldanon, but remembered Anora and was put off from that course, it would have been more awkward. If she just kept her head down and avoided the guards she could locate Marjolaine without difficulty.

++++++++++

In spite of the three days she had been in the city, she had no luck in locating her quarry. After she investigated their old hiding place, she turned to some of the other remaining bard hideouts but found nothing of them or her. In the end she convened to a garden near the plaza, and sat beneath one of the elder oaks to work out a plan, and pondered whether to search further afield. One of her friends, Bianca, a fair-haired girl slightly younger than Leliana came up to her, apprehensive about her plans to find Marjolaine.  
"Leliana, this hunt for Marjolaine has been all but in vain, she's either fled the capital for fear of you or King Aldanon of Ferelden, why would she bother going after you now?" she asked, placing herself under the tree next to her, Leliana stared at the ground for a moment, thinking of her plan that was starting to look grim.  
"Either Marjolaine hunts me down and kills me or I catch her while her guard is down," Leliana said resolutely, at this Bianca sighed despairingly "then I will most likely settle in Orlais. I really missed you, Bianca, and the other girls. Aldanon's living his own life; his duties are to Ferelden, he does not need me anymore." She added sadly.

"You really knew Aldanon, didn't you? The king you said he was?" her friend asked in surprise, Leliana nodded. "This might sound completely irrational, but you should go to him!" she said excitedly, Leliana looked up, stunned, "Think about it, he can help you if he can, he's a king and you're his friend." Bianca encouraged, trying to raise her fading hope.  
"As much as I would like to see him again, he's just not in love with me, he loved another woman for a time and now he's married to another, I -" she stopped and sighed sullenly, hope lost. "It just doesn't seem right."  
"Leli, there's something to remember about a man," Bianca started, consolingly, "you either love a man or you don't, and though this Aldanon was involved with another woman, you never left his side until the end."  
"Because of practicality," Leliana lamented sadly, "And he was kind to me, even though he did not always need to be, every decision he made I approved, and I felt that I wanted to stay to help him because of the Blight."  
"But inside you know now that because the other one left, he must have been quite upset to have been abandoned by her! And from what I've heard, the marriage to the queen was purely political. He could probably still help you find Marjolaine if that's what you want, but you cannot hunt her down on your own. Sometimes a king needs a queen to be more than a ruling body beside him, to give him strength when he needs it most. You've been alone too long."  
"Maybe I have, but I can't just return to his life," Leliana said sternly, "He and I clashed a few times, but I never felt compulsion to leave him because he was doing an honourable deed for Ferelden. I admired him."  
"Then go to him!" Bianca exclaimed readily, "Marjolaine destroyed your life here, once she's gone, go to him."

"You just don't understand, Bianca." Leliana cried, almost on the point of tears, "I can't return to him, even if I did love him, he changed that when he went for Morrigan. He said that we should have remained friends. I'm not about to pursue a course of love that may or may not happen." Her voice broke as she went, and before Bianca could start she was already running away from her, weeping. She stopped on her tracks and turned, tears streaking down her cheeks, her sky-blue eyes betrayed an emotion that was a pained, confused, and lost all at once. She realised that even if Marjolaine was slain, she would have no future afterwards, and she would either become a chantry sister again, or live in a rural community. She could have gone adventuring again, but she did not want to lose touch with the years of her life knowing Aldanon. As more tears creased down her cheeks, Bianca caught her in a warm embrace. _I wish Aldanon was here,_ she thought,_ I miss him_.


	13. Counsel with the Witch

**Counsel with the Witch**

If there was any one constant place in which Aldanon felt uncomfortable, it was always the Fade. The vast windswept plains, abysses and strangely Tevinter looking ruins made him want to get as far away from it all as possible. Before his hellish descend into the Deep Roads, the fade dominated his nightmares. But the need for counsel was imperative, and it drew him here in dreams and desperation. Being where he was in a dream meant that he was clothed in his royal red pyjamas, which made him look very out of place; and just as vulnerable to a surprise attack. He had been waiting in the one corner of the Fade plain for almost an hour, waiting restlessly for the one from whom he could draw guidance from, but at what price? He wondered. And then she came, as if through nothingness she had appeared beside him. Aldanon leaped back in shock and surprise for fear of her being a disguised demon, but sensed that she was real and relaxed.

++++++++++++

"And so you come seeking me once again, if only the mages had discovered this sooner, a great deal of time between them may have been saved." She commented, almost half to herself. Aldanon collected himself.  
"I visited the Orlesian Grey Wardens;" he began, fear evident in his voice "and from what they've told me, the darkspawn have returned in force. They've mentioned something worse now; a darkspawn that talks."  
"Ah yes, that." She started in recollection, as if the fact of the matter had just returned to her memory. "I can tell you what I know about this type of darkspawn, for there is more than one of its kind. From what I've scryed about them, they're called the Disciples, intelligent creatures that are able to lead and direct the lesser darkspawn group mind; and with one of these Disciples, the darkspawn are able to operate like a group of trained soldiers; with strategy, tactics and ambushes." Aldanon turned about, apprehensive but deep in thought. Disaster piled on disaster.

"This is more than troubling," he said, finally, as if a nightmare had come true, "But does this have anything to do with the Archdemon's soul still surviving, despite its alleged destruction?" he asked, gesturing at her growing abdomen, which he knew housed the developing baby that held within the Old God's soul. "Are you absolutely certain this has nothing to do with it? Because I do regret my part in this, if it comes to disaster don't think I will rest on my laurels." He hardened and became more severe; Morrigan frowned at his rising mistrust.  
"I assure you, Aldanon," Morrigan said sincerely "The darkspawn remaining has nothing to do with the Old God's soul. The taint that was part of the conceived child and of the Archdemon was destroyed when the Old God's soul met with the child, the ritual was designed to eradicate the taint and preserve the Old God's spirit within the body of the conceived child." She explained, but Aldanon was still not convinced, "You have my word." She added, but he was still uneasy with the whole matter. "These Disciples seem to be the ones behind the darkspawn resurfacing, there's one leading the horde that's moving to attack Val Royeaux as we speak."  
"I've requested military aid from the Empress; hopefully we will learn something of this new foe." He said hopefully, becoming more restless as his mind processed this news. "We will defeat them."  
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Aldanon." Morrigan cautioned intently, "As strong as you may be, don't forget the ones whom I warned you about before, the ones who will strike you when they have the chance." Aldanon must have turned deathly cold because he was sweating again, he remembered and knew of whom she spoke.  
"I will be careful, Morrigan," he reassured her, "But I've got a host of new wardens at my command, and I will watch my back." Though this was meant as reassurance, he could tell it wasn't working on her.  
"Even the mightiest of men fall. The darkspawn are smarter than ever before, brute force combined with intelligence is a horrifying combination."

Aldanon sensed the dream was about to dissolve around him, he searched his mind for the right words, but he also feared that there was a price to be paid for this service.  
"Thank you Morrigan, I will not forget this. But what of the cost for such valuable information the wardens could use to battle the darkspawn?" eagerness rose up in his voice again, but Morrigan jsut frowned curtly.  
"You cannot tell the other grey wardens about any of this. If you told them, they will just suspect you of making deals of maleficarum and demons and deem you mad. As for the cost; the more we communicate, the more your body will temporarily weaken." the blood from Aldanon's face was drained as the horror consumed him.  
"What do you mean weaken?!" he asked, frantically at first; fear pulsating in his chest. But his expression became hard as stone, and he crouched into a threatening position, "Did you use blood magic?" he threatened.  
"I did dabble in the art, but through Flemeth's teachings, not demonology." She said clinically, if slightly offended by Aldanon's implied threat. "Your strength, flexibility and health will be drained bit, but not lethally, and not for long. There's only one way to prevent a stronger spell of it from harming you; you and I must cease this convening in the Fade. For your sake. But be assured that you will have it back by the time the darkspawn return." Aldanon was still deathly pale, this was more than he could cope. None of what would have reassured him before was working; he was in truth, terrified. Not only were there other villains in the shadows, there were darkspawn, and on top of this he was physically weakening.

Within a short period of time, he felt energies surging around his body. The dream was weakening and he would soon return to the real world. _No! Not now!_ He thought; _there are still questions that need answering. _  
"And one more thing, my warden," Morrigan said neutrally, gladly accepting the dream's end and uneasily accepting Aldanon fading back into her memories. "Beware Aundar Jürgen. Beware the Architect." Morrigan's new surge of tidings tortured his insides. Weaken how exactly? He was about to go to war, he couldn't afford to be weakened. Who were Aundar Jürgen and the Architect? What bearing did these entities have on the mission at hand? Before these qfduestions could come to surface, a jolt of pain tore at Aldanon's stomach, and Morrigan had disappeared into the winds and the blur of the Fade ceased to exist.

++++++++++++

Once again, Aldanon's dream had dematerialised just as quickly as it had formed. The sweat on his brow seemed to have frozen across his head. As he contemplated Morrigan's words, his strength and conviction started to wear down in a manner he had not experienced since the beginning of the Blight, when his family was murdered and the Battle of Ostagar ended in bloody disaster. Intelligent darkspawn and covert operatives – assassins – attempting to destroy him was almost too dreadful to suffer without telling someone. He wanted to tell someone, but he knew that would only prompt more questions. The darkspawn he could handle, but foes he could not see or strike chilled his blood most, as did the fear that he was somehow a tool in their greater plan. He was used to knowing his enemy; not have the dread of a greater foe be on the horizon. He tried to divert his thoughts and remembered he was lying next to a tired, sleeping Anora, and her fair, peaceful form lessened his anxieties of the dream.

He walked over to the balcony outside his room; once outside, he had a view of almost all of Val Royeaux. He also remembered his duties for the day; with Empress Celene mustering the army, his duty was to confer with Orlesian General Duke Claude d'Aubrac about the strategy of the battle. Once again, the ill feeling about the man struck him again; he was too much like Loghain, if Orlesian. He did not want to voice his suspicions in public for fear of disfavour, but wanted to keep a close eye on the duke. He was too suspicious of anything to do with Ferelden. Historically, men like Loghain often cropped up in pairs.


	14. War Preparations

**War Preparations**

As soon as he was bathed, Aldanon took his leave to get dressed and had set about to don his ceremonial tailored coat, the same one he wore at his first dinner in the palace. It was a painstaking ritual which took a solid twenty minutes, due to his frustration at having to dress so lavishly in such ordinary circumstances such as breakfast, and for having to put up with a design that made his back feel like a wooden board. He had to keep reminding himself that he was always dining in the company of Empress Celene and the royal family, Anora, his old companions, and now with the newest contingent of grey wardens; now was not the time to be particular. Zevran's insistence that he should be proud of his new attire did give him an advantage of comfort. But when said that Aldanon should request it to be taken back to Ferelden and serve as his court suit as a gift from Celene, the thought rendered him in want of his armour. So he looked forward to breakfast, which was something of a mixed blessing because Celene has allowed him to eat so much at the dinner banquet. But humility dictated that he should have been ashamed by such a hunger. In the end, it was his 'savage' grey warden appetite that gave him room enough for a hearty breakfast, and he did not seem to get any chubbier.

+++++++++++

After breakfast, he caught Anora within one of the Empress's drawing rooms, meticulously preparing a series of papers, which were primarily written by her, as he could tell from the wavy, flowing writing that he recognised.  
"So, what ingenious plans to heighten Ferelden have you devised now, my dear?" Aldanon asked suavely.  
"A few more adventurous requests," Anora answered, joy hinted in her voice, Aldanon's charm had worked "I'm requesting consent to form a great Ferelden fleet, large enough to rival the Antivan Armada. Obviously most Orlesian nobles will be suspicious of this, which is why I must negotiate the matter with her, and convince them that it's purely for defensive measures." Aldanon nodded as she outlined the papers; he also knew that informing Orlais about this would prevent naval wars in the future and allow Ferelden to grow stronger. "I also wonder if Ferelden can be allowed to form its own branch of the Chantry; akin to the andrastian one based here in Orlais, but individual in its own right." Aldanon's dwindling attention suddenly shot up, what did she just say?

"You want to form a Chantry of your own within Ferelden bounds that lives by its own rules? Why?" he asked nervously, he knew that this was one of Anora's more favoured plans, but he didn't think she was about it.  
"Why not?" Anora asked him, "Tevinter have their version, and our version of it will omit all the immoral things about the current one, a Chantry of Ferelden, if you will. It's time Ferelden earned a proper place in Thedas." "Then I hope fortune is with you, Maker knows you'll need it to get those requests." Aldanon said calmly, smiling venerably, the sound of the retinue arriving alerted him. "I'll be leaving the Palace to join my comrades and the Orlesian army at the front, I won't return until the darkspawn attackers are defeated. I wish you success in the treaties." Anora got up onto her feet earnestly, curiously wanting to savour this moment with Aldanon.  
"May the Maker watch over you, Aldanon. I'm almost certain you will emerge to be hero in Orlais as well as Ferelden. I love you, and farewell, darling." She drew Aldanon's head in to kiss, one that lingered for but a moment, and hung on for what seemed for much longer. Once she relinquished him, his armoured figure strode dutifully out of the room, down the gilded palace corridor and out into the courtyard. Yet still her sorrowful eyes followed him, she did not want to surrender the moment. Aldanon mounted his steed and the herald sounded his horn, the knights turned about and galloped out into Val Royeaux, and into battle.

+++++++++++

Out in the city, it was clear that his words with the Empress did not go unanswered, the soldiers and town guards were assembling and on the march, mounted chevaliers galloped through the streets and more could be seen at their fortresses, even the formidable templars were on the march, their glistening steel lined out in columns. He soon noticed that it was their camp, one of several that started cropping up around the western part of the city, where the darkspawn attack as predicted. A herd of them were even guarding a group of meditating mages, who were trying to scry the darkspawn's location, just like what he saw at King Cailan's camp at Ostagar. The Divine of the Chantry was even out and about, once Aldanon caught a clear sight of her elderly, it gave him an idea. He ordered his retinue to halt and remain where they were; he dismounted and moved casually towards the elderly priest. He had caught her in the nick of time; she had just finished her prayer. Once she noticed him, she stood up straight and studied him for a moment, but did not seem impressed despite his appearance and reputation.

"Greetings, Your Reverence."Aldanon greeted her; she continued to study him, regarding him with indifference.  
"So, you are the fabled Aldanon Cousland." She greeted curtly, "Here, we've heard of your exploits, not all of them abide by chantry law." She added sharply. Aldanon frowned at her haughty impertinence; he knew that this sort of arrogance and domineering nature was among the chantry priests, but he didn't have time for it.  
"The truth is that I did what I had to as a Grey Warden, but I never broke any chantry rules, just bent them. At any rate that's not why I'm here." He gestured to the further part of the templar camp, and she followed, listening, though she had little time for him, she was not about to refuse a royal appeal. "I'd like to request permission to overlook one of the rules concerning mages and their place in the nations. The boy, Connor Guerrin, son of Arl Eamon Guerrin of the arling of Redcliffe in Ferelden, is gifted with magical abilities that he inherited from his mother; your rules stipulate that no mage may earn or inherit a position of power within political circles. But what I ask is that his rights as a noble's son are granted back to him." She stared at him in shock and disgust, as if he had just asked her to dance naked on the city walls for the morale of the men.

"Absolutely not." She snapped flatly "I will not bend the rules of the Chantry for anyone, even less at the behest of a foreign king, or king-consort as my resources say." Aldanon sighed in exasperation, putting his hand over his forehead. "The last time mages rules over the land, they brought the darkspawn into our world, it's not done."  
"I wouldn't ask such a thing lightly," Aldanon said in a tempered voice, "I ask this because a noble family is still distraught over the affair. By all means, he should continue to study magic and master it. But you won't be putting any lives in danger by consenting to this" the Chantry Divine stopped in thought, mulling over his persuasive argument, she did not want to damage the Chantry's reputation by refusing an official royal request.  
"Very well, his noble rights shall be renewed. But on the condition that if he shows so much as the slightest sign of dark magic and brings harm to his future subjects, he will be forever be condemned within the tower and if necessary be made tranquil." Aldanon shivered at the mention of the notion, but the thought did not dominate him. He had achieved his goal. The Divine signed the official Order of Mage's Rights Extension for Connor Guerrin and passed it to Aldanon. It was Connor's birthday in five months, and Aldanon had a fitting present.

+++++++++++

Aldanon's retinue went on its way to join them at the main army camp. He had not seen such bustle since the prelude to the Battle of Ostagar. Celene had called for an evacuation of the district; she had also forbidden her chevaliers from violating people's homes and possessions. Tents were set up in the streets to accommodate the inflow of soldiers. Formations of soldiers were on patrol; most of them were either resting, eating at the cram-packed inns and taverns, or practicing with their comrades. On the main avenue leading out of the city, battalions of chevaliers were on the march. One company was already underway out of the city, and in a moment of enthusiasm, Aldanon ordered the knights to halt and followed the chevaliers out of the city. From the entrance porch overlooking the road that wove into the valley, they were a magnificent sight, as many as up to four legions, numbering a thousand per division, could be seen, all lined up in a formidable moving wall of silvery steel. Their horses whinnied as the head of each battalion sounded the call to march north. Aldanon turned back to the camp. At the centre of the bustle was Duke Claude d'Aubrac, Marquis Jacques, Commander Charles and Geoffrey were also there, all crowded around a wooden table upon which a map of the city and the surrounding lands was laid. He allowed his horse to be taken to the stables, and walked towards the council taking place.

"I truly don't know why you would play a part in such a blind act, grey warden," Claude's hoarse voice brushed out angrily against Charles, "The more chevaliers outside of the city walls to flank the darkspawn the better."  
"Surely even you know that we cannot afford to have all of the chevaliers outside of the city walls." Charles spoke back to him with a patience that showed signs of thinning, "While I am certain that the strategy may work, I'm not content to have such a large number of our best forces outside of the walls they should be defending."  
"I remind you that this was your Order's strategy, if you intend to disagree with a general's advice, then you can fight this battle by yourself." Charles stared at him in repulsion, though he had known many callous men in his time, few were as cold as Claude d'Aubrac. Aldanon, who had been hearing the strategy, entered the scene.  
"Aldanon, thank the Maker, Duke Claude was beginning to get into an irate state," Jacques stated boldly, knowing that Claude stood frowning behind him, "Perhaps you have something to say to settle this mess?"  
"I think that as a proper general, you should be following his advice," he joined in, smiling despite the intensity, "a veteran of darkspawn would know his enemy, and would offer advice to his allies. But when it's spurned..." he closed in on the Duke, whose rage was quietly amounting at the king-consort's impertinence.  
"Aldanon, here you are. The duke and I were..." Charles' attention turned to d'Aubrac distastefully, "_discussing_ the strategy for the upcoming battle. We were having a few ... _disagreements_" he added sharply.

"In any event, I need to know the status of the strategy, what is it?" he asked Charles, ignoring d'Aubrac.  
"We estimate four thousand cavalry marshalling outside the city, three thousand infantrymen manning the walls, and three companies of wardens, each numbering sixty, to support the infantry. We also sent word to Montfort; they will be sending us a division of five hundred foot soldiers." Aldanon nodded as he studied the map which detailed the positioning of each battalion, but curiosity sprung to him once again.  
"A hundred and eighty wardens?" he asked concernedly, "I thought there were just over two hundred of us."  
"We had scouts watching the darkpawn horde," Charles said knowingly, "and we had individual wardens stationed in other parts of the Orlesian Empire, to alert us at any sign of danger of darkspawn. They will be unable to reach us, but fear not; there will be the two hundred of us we promised to the Empress." Just as he finished, Aldanon caught a large group coming around from the corner of his eye. Wynne, Zevran, Oghren, Max the dog, Osecar, Durin, Argeles and Elanea joined the outskirts of the discussion. The warriors were all armed and armoured, Oghren and Durin had been practicing very intensely against each other, and eager to see darkpsawn slain; the mages looked slightly drained for they had been practicing their spell craft; the rogues also showed signs of exercise, judging by the smell of pine trees, it seemed they were scouting.

"We've taken time to prepare for the scouting mission, Charles," Osecar reported dutifully "I would also ask if we take Aldanon's companions out onto the field, I know they will help us, if by his consent and theirs."  
"Of course we can, we could certainly do with the exercise." Wynne spoke on their behalf, but Zevran disagreed.  
"Oh sure, send us into battle, we've only just arrived and it's not like we have a desire to relax!" he nagged  
"I wouldn't mind a change from all this display and formality, just to stop the monotony." Oghren grumbled.  
"I don't object." Aldanon said shortly, eager to get on with his analysing of the strategy. "I'm still anxious to know of the latest news of the darkspawn advance. Your Grace?" he offered a chance.  
"As I understand, your plan was to harry them as they approach the city with the chevaliers, and that's why we must have as many of them on the flanking front as possible." He lectured in his reserved, withdrawn way, indicating on the map the positions of what would soon be the point from which the chevaliers would charge.  
"That was the strategy, but the hope is that once the Montfort soldiers arrive, they can reinforce that point and we can have more chevaliers within the bounds of the city. If you have any naval craft, I would also suggest deploying them to prevent the darkspawn from escaping back into the west or try to swim to safety."  
"Well, I must say that the strategy may be demanding, but it will prove efficient." d'Aubrac nodded, "But why the lack of horsemen out on the field where they should be? This tactic is supposed to be the most effective."  
"It is, but it's all to familiar to me" Aldanon said with a hint of ill memory, "I would rather not jeapordize the defenders here."

Before he could go further, an elven servant stumbled by, leaving a metal tray with silver goblets of wine for the Duke. Aldanon thought he looked a bit tired, and allowed him to take his seat. Too late he realised it to be a bad move, the duke had seen it. Suddenly he towered over the hapless elf, his voice like a dragon's roar.  
"How dare you sit in the presence of your betters, servant!!" he roared "Get up!!" he elf shot up in terror.  
"I'm sorry Your Grace, it was just a -" he was cut short by a slap to the head from d'Aubrac's mailed hand.  
"You'll speak when spoken to!! Unless you'd rather be marched out to meet the enemy, WELL!!?? " a single, direct strike to his chin sent the elf sprawled on the floor. Elenea readied her bow, but Aldanon intervened.  
"Sir, I fear you've been a too long a soldier, we no longer treat elves servants that way, in Denerim society," d'Aubrac's furious eyes widened, he was not used to this _Ferelden_ instigating orders on his ground.  
"I hardly touched the thing." He shouted pitilessly, Elanea's arrow was aimed directly for his head.  
"I think you hit him very hard. In Ferelden we see elves as true citizens after their valiant aid in the defence of Denerim, and perhaps this is something Orlesian aristocracy should consider, since Ferelden has taken a first step." The duke huffed and stormed off, unable and unwilling to suffer Ferelden insolence. The rest of the remaining party stared at him, in both amazement and approval. Wynne took the injured elf away to receive healing.

"That was a brave act you did for the servant, Aldanon." Jacques said, impressed, staring at the huffing duke.  
Aldanon only smiled and murmured; "It was nothing". Aldanon's eyes met Elanea's, they showed signs of decreasing hostility, thanks to his standing up for the elf. He silently acknowledged that this was the first step to an easier partnership. A soldier appeared from across the camp, his cheeks flushed with exhaustion from running to bring his message.  
"Where's the Duke? I was sent to bring more of his orders to the captain on the field." Aldanon gestured to Charles to resume the duke's seat and said cunningly to the messenger; "The Duke is indisposed."


	15. Covert Preparations

**Covert Preparations**

Three days passed, and Aldanon would continue to work alongside the reluctant duke to prepare Val Royeaux for battle. Though he rarely visited the battlefield, he was scheduled a chance to go on one last important reconnaissance mission before falling back to defend the city. Mostly he would remain within the camp and draw strategies with Charles and Geoffrey, and the touchy d'Aubrac. Mostly d'Aubrac would consent for their honest tactical logic, but still remained bitter. He was also present to receive new allies in the city; the soldiers of the port town of Val Chevin, hardy sailor folk who had ability for finesse, light armour and agility. However, events in the central regions of the city were becoming too dire to ignore; but no one could see or hear it coming.

++++++++++++

In spite of the evacuations, people in Val Royeaux had recently started seeing whole groups of alienage elves being taken out of their area escorted by bands of aggressive looking mercenaries. And the alienage was declared a safe region by the Empress, nowhere near the western part of the city, so they couldn't have been evacuees. The Town Guard investigated this and found nothing that could legally give them reason to stop them, from time to time mercenary would show them a letter of marque permitting them to take these elves, signed and sealed by the Empress's husband Claude d'Aubrac, permitting them to be removed from the alienage in the event that Val Royeaux should fall.

Other times, in fact more often, the patrols would be wiped out and their bodies taken, never to be found. The few within the circles of the dwindling city guard who would hear of the letters would have only suspected that they were a fraud, the Duke would not stoop to such peculiar dealings with elves and mercenaries. The man himself heatedly and frequently denied the possibility that he could have anything to do with it, and the Empress would back him firmly. With such a lead, the guards lead many investigations into this, taking entire patrols to find the elves and mercenaries. But after a while, they would turn up nothing. And the common folk seemed to know little of seeing crowds of elves and mercenaries, nor where they went. What was also curious was the disappearance of the bodies of missing guards. However, most leads guided them to a run-down warehouse, in the far flung corners of the back alleys. Logically, this would be reason enough for an investigation, but insistence of the captain and of the Duke prevented investigation, insisting upon fighting the darkspawn. Many still held that this mysterious threat was the true danger, they weren't wrong.

++++++++++++

Fortunately for François the mage, it meant the operation could proceed simply and with ease. Val Royeaux's alienage lodged up to 10,000 elves, each desperate, cramped and starving. The chance to improve their lives was irresistible, even if it meant joining the wrong side. Within the warehouse, smith Benoit worked drudgingly to prepare weapons and armour for these new conscripts, mostly blades of iron or steel and leather cuirasses. The network of thieves led by Iūrups had worked throughout the nights to acquire ore from smithies and valuables from noble houses to sell for supplies, but more were being lost to the guards. He was also instructed by the mistress to begin work on a restraining device, for what reason he did not know. François had also been utilizing the spies to hunt down apostate mages and brought them to his side, within days he had gathered half a dozen of them, all obedient and extremely dangerous. Any dead elves, mercenaries or guards were taken into the furthest reach of the tunnels to be worked on by the mages, what for was still a mystery. To make room, Aundar ordered the mercenaries to move to the taverns, an improvement due to the access of ale, the huge numbers of them meant that the tavern guests were getting easily upset. It became clear to them that soon the operation would became noticed by even the Empress, and with the dreaded Aldanon at her side, the danger was too great. Aundar had ordered the mercenaries in the Western part of the city to withdraw at once to avoid capture.

There were also tunnels that dug beneath the warehouse were beginning to stretch deep just to contain the new sword arms. François ordered more elves to be taken from the alienage to be used as slave labourers, doing the duties that the mercenaries had began refusing, including digging tunnels beneath the warehouse, as well as serving as porters around the base. There was even one incident when Aundar brought back a mother and her baby girl to the warehouse, which only occurred because the devoted mother refused to abandon her child; and her husband had been drafted into the makeshift army. But the foul conditions were starting to weaken her gravely.

"Please, sir," she pleaded faintly to François, who was working on his potions nearby, "My child has not eaten, and I'm not strong enough to take care of her." suddenly she recoiled in pain and fear as the mage's hand struck down on her face. Her oppressor leered imperiously over her as she laboured to control her emotions.  
"You're here to work, you worthless elf, your child is just another burden you've decided to bear, on your own foolishness." He raised his staff to inflict an entropic curse, but he was stopped by Aundar's iron grip.  
"You worthless mage!" he cursed in a lupine manner, "The mistress wants slaves to work, not dead flesh! Give the wench food and water." The mage was about to protest, but was cut short by the deep growl from the Anderfel man. Dissatisfied, the mage returned to his potions and runestones. François had voiced his disapproval of how large the operation was becoming, and that the fact that the guards were pulling back to the city gates was only too fortunate, else it would have ended a long time ago. But the mistress demanded that they continued, for word had it that their time to strike would come swiftly, but could not proceed until she was in the city. And then, the day came, the prey had walked into the trap.

++++++++++++

Iūrups was on another one of his scout patrols around the gardens, tired, hungry and just about ready to walk out on this insane mission. Just as the mistress told him to, he had not returned to the hideout except to report on behalf of the spies and thieves. Nevertheless, the thought of clearing out all together was beginning to seem like a good idea. And then something caught his eye, fair lass with scarlet hair, fair skin, humming a melody to herself as she strolled through the city, alone. Iūrups followed her carefully, trying to confirm his suspicions; she set beneath the shade of a tree in one of the gardens to rest. Once she sat down, the spy had a clear view of his quarry. Just then an electric jolt surged down the spy's spine; she was here. Leliana was in Val Royeaux! He knew what this meant. She stirred to life, caution in her actions, she had sensed the danger. Iūrups dashed into the distance. His victim stared at where he was, a cold feeling gripping her insides. She got up from her spot as she saw from the corner of her eye the spy, and began to track him down.

++++++++++++

The moment he arrived at their base, the inhabitants were once again caught shocked by his sudden entrance which had alerted the entire warehouse. He panted deeply to regain his breath and rested on the armchair, it was a familiar ritual they were all used to. Once it was complete he began exhaustedly;  
"She's here, Leliana is in Val Royeaux!" the entire building stirred to life, an evil grin creased across François' face and magic flowed from his fingers in anticipation, Aundar rallied his men and brandished his weapon yelling triumphantly, smith Benoit started to work harder, and every fighter set about to preparation. In the shadows, the insane cackle that was the mistress materialized, now more of her features visible.  
"YEESSS!" she shrieked from the shadows, "She's here, and now I have vengeance!" and thus Marjolaine emerged from the darkness. Her face was wrinkled with all those sleepless nights brooding, and her hair filthy and greying. She was clad in her own set of enchanted inscribed leathers, daggers across her back, each dripping with poisons, her creased face twisted into an evil smile that made shudder all in her wake, which broke into a long and very insane cackle, enough to shake the beams and rafters of her decrepit lair.

++++++++++++

When Marjolaine finally collected herself, she strode about and called her captains, "Aundar Jürgen, gather your men, and move out into the city!" she ordered to the Ander warrior, "Follow our rogue to where he saw her, and follow his strategy to apprehend her!" a mercenary opened the door and the huge wolf of a man charged forth with his men. "Francois, fire the beacon!" and in response the mage raised his staff towards the broken ceiling releasing a jet of red light up into the sky. Knowing what such an obvious signal might incur, she turned to the mercenary archers, "I want you in station on top of the roofs of the surrounding buildings, target anyone who get suspicious and approach." She turned back to François, who had stopped the beacon, "Now prepare your concoctions and your spells, and start to put the bodies to good use." The mage nodded and descended into his lair beneath the floor. She turned to the fighters, now bustling about and steeling for battle. "As for the rest of you," she cried to them, "have your blades and ambitions be bared. Be prepared!" she shrieked, and in response the army resounded in triumphant cries of war.


	16. Forest Patrol

**Forest Patrol**

Aldanon rose fresh and early from his tent, his muscles were still acclimatizing to having to fight in heavy armour after being stuck in Zevran's handpicked suit for most days at the palace. Having practiced his skills in Highever, and been at war for most of his life as a grey warden, he was quite accustomed to going around in suits of armour. But this reintroduction to using it in practice as opposed for Ceremonial reasons was a familiar feeling to him. But there was stillness about the camp, and he knew the reason why; the darkspawn were less than a day away from the city, the scouts had reported that the horde numbered at least ten thousand were on their way. This was Aldanon's only chance at forward combat and taking the fight to the enemy directly before having to fight on the walls of the city. He was told of his task the night before; pinpoint the attack formations in which the horde will be taking, thin out their numbers without being spotted – at least one battalion, locate and hopefully kill the commanders, and if possible – locate the source of intelligence. He made his way to his now rather large group; consisting of Geoffrey, Osecar, Argeles, Elanea, Wynne, Zevran, Durin and Oghren both clad in black legion armour, and his faithful mabari Max. He was also greeted by a new member to his already huge group; Marquis Jacques. He donned a suit of silverite chevalier armour, and a greatsword was across his back.  
"Greetings, Jacques." Aldanon greeted graciously, clasping his hand. "I take it you are to join us?"  
"Of course, I've not met this darkspawn threat in the flesh," he said passionately, the welcoming sincerity had turned into a passion for battle as seen in only the bravest and truest of knights "I intend to know our enemy. And fear not, I am a veteran of battle. I also believe your group will be too large to constitute a scouting party, the duke has ordered me to take command of half of your group. Perhaps you may make selections first."  
"Thank you Jacques" Aldanon acknowledged, and the group assembled in much the same manner as his old companions did before, informally and eagerly, "I will take Geoffrey, Argeles, Osecar, Elanea and Maximus." The appointed companions gladly joined his side, but the remainders looked at him puzzled."I'm sorry Wynne, Durin, Oghren, and Zevran but you will have to go with Jacques." Durin looked at him incredulously and Oghren frowned in disbelief, but Aldanon's earnest look confirmed his fears. He turned bright red, almost as red as his beard.  
"WHAT?!" Oghren gagged and yelled, "You want me to fight beside this prig of a dwarf?!" he pointed at Durin.  
"Aldanon, I must insist otherwise," Durin persuaded "This dwarf is nothing but trouble. And I'm sure all he wants to do with me is a tavern fight." Aldanon's expression firmed and the two dwarves' animosity was stilled  
"You must learn to overcome your differences, such as being a grey warden, Durin. And Oghren, while I don't stand in your way during a fight, you're no use to us fighting our own." The rowdy dwarf grunted indifferently.  
"As you wish, Warden. I won't argue with you, and with darkspawn coming we can't be divided, like you said." Aldanon nodded in relief that the dwarf put his ill will aside, but he sensed that there would still be quarrel ahead. Jacques took over, and presented a set of ornately carved oxen horns to each member of the groups  
"One more thing: take these war horns with you, if you're attacked and find yourself hard-pressed we will come for you, and we would ask you to do the same in the event that we succumb to the enemy. Let us now go, the enemy awaits." The others nodded, gathered their idle weapons and equipment packs and boldly set off through the doors upon their horses. But those steeds only dared to take them so far.

Out in the forests, there was clear evidence that the darkspawn taint was taking effect; all around him he could see animals dying from the infectious effects and some with a sinister glint in their eyes, the ground was rotting beneath Aldanon and fungi were popping up all over the place, and the trees grew mottled and started to block out the sun despite their leafless states. The air was heavy and still; a fell mist had risen up, cloaking the forest floor and clouding the way ahead. Elanea, who was taking the lead close to Aldanon, was convinced that it was not natural, and decided that it was darkspawn sorcery and had summoned a wolf to help fight alongside them. Geoffrey had his blade unsheathed throughout their mission; he could sense the taint all around him but not in the form of darkspawn; and less luck finding the intelligence. Osecar had ignited their blades and placed every enchantment he could upon him, nevertheless he was still very anxious. Maximus had taken a place alongside Elanea's wolf, and soon started to get competitive, to attain the elven ranger's attention; but her animal skills urged them to focus. Argeles had taken the rear, and kept his vision on the surrounding woods, but had not drawn his weapons yet. They had been on the track of the darkspawn horde and so far had only spotted scouts; they did not understand how the horde was able to move so stealthily. Aldanon moved at the head of the party, holding his hand up to signal to hold. Ahead, the forest seemed to go on forever, the darkness under the trees seemed to have intensified. Elanea's keen elven senses tried to discern what lay within but could not see through.  
"There's something out there, Aldanon. I can feel the taint stronger here, but I can also feel magic at work"  
"Right, total and utter quiet, understand?" Aldanon whispered to his group, "So for instance if any one of us walks over any deadly thorns, they must on no account, go – AAAGGHH!!!!" he shrieked suddenly, stunning the other grey wardens as his foot came down on a small area of mist-covered ground.  
"You just walked over a patch of thorns, Aldanon?" Argeles asked at his leader's reaction to a few thorns.  
"No, Argeles, I just put my toe in a cold puddle." Argeles sighed at the sarcasm, but the others smiled at his wry humour, it always helped to have a leader with more to him than simply leadership.

Suddenly a surge of arrows greeted him, with an instant burst of reflex, his shield halted them. He lowered to see what hit him, and met something he knew only too well. A horde of charging hurlocks came crashing through. Their hideous, twisted, yet distinctly humanoid faces mirrored the aggression in which they charged as they raised their weapons to strike. Only to find their abdomens split by a deadly flashing blade. Aldanon raised his sword and with a great fury, felled the first wave, but more were emerging from the blackness.  
"To arms, brothers and sisters!! For the Grey Wardens!!" he cried out, his voice hoarse from the effort. But not in vain, for Geoffrey had drew his chevalier mace as well and raised his shield. With the two shield-arms at the front, the darkspawn were effectively halted, but soon they began to swarm. With sword to slay, and mace to batter, the pair worked effectively. The two hounds were loosed upon them, coming from both sides by Elanea's telepathic direction. Osecar's spell might was like Aldanon had never seen, at first surges of lighting stunned the horde, followed by a blast of cold that froze more in their place, and then the grand finale; a fireball that sent both friends and foes to the ground. He was like a fireworks display, and he was proud of it. Elanea's bow was out, and as the warriors fought arrows whistled past them and met their targets. "Shall we compete for points?" Aldanon thought he heard her call out to him. Argeles had drew his daggers, yet in a mad fury had charged right into the heart of the growing horde, but spun wildly and rapidly as darkspawn dared to take him down. In spite of it all, they still came. From the corner of her eye, Elanea could see Genlocks readying their arrows, and far ahead; a Hurlock Emissary. The others were locked in battle, but she was free. She sounded her horn.

"I don't care that you think I'm a drunken sod, you're still a stuck up square, Durin." Oghren grumbled to his old rival, who was resting on a moss covered rock. As the group had taken to rest in a clearing in the forest after a minor, yet close fight with the darkspawn. Wynne had been tending a wound Jacques had sustained and Zevran was on lookout. Wynne had difficulty tolerating Oghren, but two of them were more than she could handle.  
"Will you two could stop walloping your mouths together like loud, overgrown children?!" Wynne snapped angrily at the two dwarves, but they barely heard her. "We're on a scouting mission right in the darkspawn's claws, and you're yelling out for our foes to come and catch us." She returned to patching up Jacques' wounds.  
"If you hadn't said my family had the military potential of a pickled herring, you wouldn't have got that black eye, if I may remind you." Durin said, as casually as he could to his rival. Oghren grumbled again.  
"If you two dwarves would lay aside house differences for the tavern, we can see if we can get closer to the horde" Jacques said in a surprisingly impatient tone, the dwarves' bickering had thinned his tolerance.  
"Well, tough Jackie!" Oghren barked rudely "You're gonna get a lot of it!" Jacques maintained his composure and refused to challenge the dwarf and returned to his vigil. But Zevran had joined in, unable to resist.  
"Come on, at the very least, we should be aware for any signs of enemy movement," he remarked to the group  
"You mean like when a guy is aware that he agreed to teach his friend some Orlesian social graces but instead teaches him a load of nug-crap?" Oghren challenged Zevran spitefully, bitter memories of the incident with him.  
"I didn't know you were upset about that" he said trying to calm the dwarf's temper.  
"Really? Did you miss all the subtle signs like me saying 'Zevran, I am going to kill you!'?"  
"Okay sorry." The elf defended, surprised at the dwarf's amounting rage, but it was to no avail  
"Maybe it means something different on the surface, back in Orzammar it means you're upset with a guy named Zevran!!" he added callously, Zevran's tanned face started to show a tint of anger.  
"I said I'm sorry!!" he said defensively, an unnaturally offended tone taking over.  
"'Sorry' doesn't make up for the fact that I had to explain to the guards what actually happened in Orlesian! Do you know what Orlesian guards punish you for disturbing the peace? Public disgrace!!!" his voice rose to a roar  
"Well, do you think I was having fun trying to explain to those Orlesian ladies 'why I had to fart so much?'?"  
"BY. THE. STONE! You are such a womanizer!" he raged at Zevran, raising his fist to knock him senseless.  
"Silence! Both on you!" Jacques shouted over the battling comrades, and calmed down "I heard something." The rest of the group became still. They tried to listen out and look out for signs of darkspawn. No one was particularly strong at listening out. Wynne, ever ready with a wise word to suit every moment made her say.  
"This is what happens when you place your hands over your ears when friends are in need." She scolded to the bickering dwarves and elf. But no one was listening. Everyone looked about to find the source of the sound of the enemy. But no one could pinpoint the sound. Suddenly a horn sounded to the east. Aldanon was in danger!

The hurlocks were running through the tangled labyrinth of trees now, encircling them. Sweat and exhaustion was pouring down Aldanon, but mixed with the black blood of the darkspawn, it burned at his skin. Suddenly he could see it, and emissary preparing a surge of tempest lighting was gathering. He broke from the line he and Geoffrey had formed, and charged straight through the horde, his shield knocking unwary darkspawn as he charged. With a great cry, the darkspawn cowered. The emissary noticed Aldanon and aimed its staff. He raised his sword and clove the staff in two, the shock of the impact knocking the sorcerer back, just as he gathered momentum to strike, an arrow pierced its head and through its brain. The momentum put into the blow was wasted, and now he was surrounded by the strongest of the enemy, and exhaustion threatened to overcome him.  
"Aldanon is trapped by the darkspawn!" Geoffrey called back to the other wardens "Elanea, shoot them from afar! Osecar, use your ice spells!" The rest of the group mobilized. Argeles' daggers cut a path through the hurlocks like scythes on a blackened harvest. Elanea jumped into the trees, dispatching the genlock archers with her arrows, Osecar drew his sword and joined the charge, incanting an ice spell in his head. Geoffrey's mace had knocked many a darkspawn aside, and the two hounds managed to overwhelm the Hurlock alphas that had targeted Aldanon. Geoffrey and Argeles rushed to Aldanon's side, but the circle of darkspawn had closing around them. Suddenly a blast of cold had frozen them all in their steps; Osecar had cast a blizzard around the group. To his left, Osecar could see genlocks dropping from their hiding places like birds put to sleep by one of his sleep spells, arrows protruding from their chests. And to his further surprise, Elenea dropped to his side.

Though they were surrounded, they would at least reduce the darkspawn horde considerably. Suddenly, the darkspawn turned to see something was striking them from behind. This was their chance; for without a moment's warning, Aldanon, the wardens, and the hounds charged. The monsters were caught by surprise as fierce foes were felling them on all fronts. Wynne cast her strongest rejuvenation spell, and so they were restored in health and energy, Durin charged through them as if they weren't there, his axe cleaving into them, Zevran crisscrossed through them like a fox after prey, thrusting his daggers in their hides as they went. Leaderless and surrounded, the horde retreated, swords, daggers and maces breasting them as they fled. Aldanon and Argeles' war furies seemed to fell darkspawn in their wake, Osecar's great fireballs seared through the trees as they fled and scattered until only a few remained. The rest of the group took a moment to collect their strength as soon as the darkspawn retreated. As soon as Aldanon had gathered his strength, he summoned them to his side.  
"You have my thanks for the timely arrival, Jacques," he took the Marquis hand and clasped it rigidly, and turned towards the fleeing darkspawn "Now then, let us follow those darkspawn and give them a taste of our united valour!" He raised his sword, cried out and charged as fast as his armoured body could carry him.

The darkspawn were quicker than they had given them credit for, yet their retreat seemed more tactical than out of defeat. Yet through the twisting trails of the forest, Aldanon and his companions continued to pursue them.  
"I can sense a stronger presence of the taint up ahead, Aldanon," Geoffrey warned Aldanon in a worn out voice as they ran, "We should try and move around them and locate the source of their leadership. This was no ordinary attack they launched. It was an ambush; they wanted to strike us while we were divided."  
"I agree with Geoffrey," Argeles concurred, "We need to find their leaders, and try to work out their strategy."  
"Elanea, have you scouted this part of the forest before?" Aldanon asked the ranger urgently "What lies ahead? Were there less darkspawn before?" The group stopped short and allowed Elanea to trace her memory.  
"There were less darkspawn when I last scouted the area," she calculated, "ahead of us is a large valley, my best estimate is that the darkspawn have set up camp there." She took lead of the group, and they trekked silently across the forest tracks. The remaining hurlocks had completely vanished from view, but their tracks remained, Elanea was able to trace them and pinpoint where they went. She could not risk the whole group trying to spy on the horde, so called forth Aldanon, Geoffrey and Osecar to try and monitor the horde. She guided them as noiselessly as they could through to a thicket to an overhanging precipice that gave way to the valley. The sight was terrifying. Within the valley the trees had been felled and the land was tainted black by the presence of the darkspawn that were assembling there. Campfires were set where idle darkspawn rested and temporary forges fuelled by the surrounding forest. There were even machines in the valley, catapults and battering rams being crafted by genlocks and hauled out of the valley by ogres. It was more like an organised military camp than a chaotic darkspawn conglomeration. More seemed to be pouring into and out of the valley, but there appeared to be a group of darkspawn that remained at the centre of the valley. Elanea could also spot a more prominent figure; what appeared to be a Hurlock, clad in chainmail armour and surrounded by Hurlock alphas and emissaries. Amid the loud clamour of the darkspawn, they picked out something that truly shocked them; words. This darkspawn spoke, in common tongue as well. There was little they could truly pick out, but still they tried.  
"The wardens will be strong, but we still outnumber them." He spoke in a harsh, guttural voice, yet with a clear note of intelligence, "Situate the pikes along the northern flank of the army; the chevaliers must be kept at bay. Move the archers up first; ignite their arrows and move the catapults up. We bombard them and break their walls and burn their city. If the walls are not breached, sent in the ogre ram and break the gates." He gestured to his right, and to their horror, a brigade of armour-clad ogres lumbered through the trees, and unarmoured ones bearing the siege weapons out of the valley. He drew out a black horn, carved from an ogre's horn, and its harsh sounding erupted through the forest. The darkspawn within the valley gathered to arms at once, swarming out of the valley. Aldanon was reminded of the darkspawn in the deep roads that mustered to the Archdemon's call and marched out under the lead of the archdemon. They had their information, now they had to return.


	17. The Trap

**The Trap**

Leliana's sense of danger was amounting to great levels, perhaps worse than the times when she was with Aldanon. The spy was definitely one of Marjolaine's, he had to be. The Orlesian authorities would have either arrested her earlier or ignored her, rather than resort to spies. She had been on the track of the spy since he spotted her in the gardens and pursued him through the night and the majority of the day, but found no trace of him. She dared not ask any of the townsfolk or guards of a man by the spy's description. There was a fear strangling her heart. It made her stop to calm down, and try to turn away from her hunt. She had not felt like this before, she had faced situations worse than this, but had always faced them down valiantly because she knew Aldanon was always there, and others. She had hunted other men and large groups of them by herself before, but there was a sense of dread that stilled her movements. As if the same voice that had spoken to her in her vision was warding her away. _This is ridiculous!_ she thought, the mad fear driving her to a rising anger, _I am a bard of Orlais, I am no coward! I should not be frightened by some childlike fear of my seniors._ She stopped, urgently trying to collect her thoughts; this was so much easier with other people to keep an eye on her. Now what was her original ruthless self had been replaced by a different Leliana, one raised by the Chantry and tempered by Aldanon, his companions and the war; she seemed to have become less independent and more orienteered towards teamwork, as a result she was less sure of her herself. She knew that there was a greater plan in stall for her in Marjolaine's mind, but determination to end her enemy's threat drove her on. In hindsight, she should have called for help.

Leliana kept down her path through the twisting alleyways of the city, she had an indication that the spy came down that area. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him, the spy. He ran the opposite way, and she darted after him. His light leathers did allow him to run quite fast, but not for long. She drew out her bow as she ran, aiming an arrow to cripple him at the heel, so that she could question him. All of the sudden, he stopped in his tracks as she ran towards him and threw a handful of dust at her face, temporarily stunning her and knocking her bow aside in the process. As soon as her sight returned, she shot out for him, cursing as she went, she should have seen it coming. She continued to chase him as she readied her bow. Suddenly he turned onto another alley, just as she had fired the arrow. She cursed under her breath, and gathered speed and momentum as she started out for him. She took the turn. The Orlesian guards blocked the way, and she recognised their leader; Captain Detrer. The same man who apprehended her in the streets of Val Royeaux the same day Marjolaine betrayed her. She was also still done for treason on top of her other alleged crimes. Her limbs lost all strength as she turned to see another patrol of guards blocking her way. The ring of swords being drawn chilled her to the marrow. Callous grins creased across their faces as she realised she had betrayed her emotions and gasped in terror.  
"Leliana, in the name of law and the Orlesian monarchy," he announced smugly "I am placing you under arrest for murder, treason, and theft. Surrender and mercy may be granted. That is unless your captors have their way." Just as he finished, a band of red steel clad anderfel mercenaries unexpectedly arrived at the backs of the guards. Among them was a tevinter leather-clad rogue, the same as the one who she had spotted in the gardens and the same one who she was chasing through the city, and with him was a giant of an anderfel warrior with a huge axe.  
"I told you if we alerted the guards we would be able to capture her, Aundar, rather than just take her by the legs." The rogue said with just as much smugness as captain Detrer. Aundar merely glared and grunted gruffly.  
"Tell me, rogue," Detrer addressed the tevinter, "How shall the City Guard of Val Royeaux reward you for warning us and aiding us in the capture of this dangerous criminal? It can be anything; gold, weapons, respect from the nobility?" Iūrups thought complacently but Leliana interrupted fiercely, her courage restored.  
"You just be careful of what you're saying, Captain!" She yelled, confident and asserted. "You forget that I travelled for a time with the Hero of Ferelden, I have friends in high places who will not turn a blind eye on me."  
"You are no hero in Orlais." He said self-righteously, ever advancing on her "And it's the law here that decides, specifically his Majesty Emperor Claude d'Aubrac on behalf of Empress Celene; not the will of foreign kings. The man whom you speak of wields no true power so far as I understand; 'king' Aldanon is no more than a consort." He added callously, pleased to see it had a disheartening effect on her.  
"Enough!" Iūrups interrupted the foul captain keenly, "You asked us of how to reward us, we want only one thing: Her. Nothing else; just her." Leliana's eyes widened in shock and horror as the mercenaries' faces flashed with sadistic pleasure. Her vulnerable expression hardened with rage as she drew her bow.  
"The law dictates that a criminal passes into the hands of the law, tevinter." Detrer said cogently. "But if you intend to do with the prisoner as you see fit, then I see no real reason to stand in your way, she's yours." He shook his hands with Iūrups, and the tevinter and his henchmen closed in on their target eagerly.  
"You can't allow this mockery of justice to be dispensed, Captain Detrer!" she called out to him as he departed with his soldiers, leaving her to them, "There is no fairness or justice in leaving anyone to die at false hands!"  
"Cease your crying, worthless baggage." Aundar menaced, his great bulk blocking out the sun, "We will offer you a chance to come with us willingly and spare you the pain. If not, we will use force and drag you back." he drew his notched battle axe, continuing to advance. Leliana's courage suddenly kindled like fire from ashes.  
"You can try," she said craftily, sensing an opportunity, "But you'll never catch me."

As she said this, she ran towards Aundar and somersaulted right over his head, landing behind him. Before they could surround her again, Leliana drew her twin daggers and swiped ad Aundar's chainmail hauberk and sliced it open. The warrior reeled back and she retreated down the alley where the guards had left. The mercenaries charged after her, but erroneously. For she had tossed a fire grenade where they came, setting their resistant armour alight. As they stumbled to put their fires out, she drew her bow, fired four arrows, and the four targets collapsed like overstuffed bags of flour. More of them charged, and in response she drew out a smoke grenade and threw it to the floor. Her enemies were not only blind to her movements, but some were even stumbling into the fire. Aundar's great bulk was so large, that his mere presence was able to dispel the blinding effect of the smoke. As soon as it had evaporated away, he turned his attention to his far left; she leapt up onto the next building and scaled its walls. But Aundar anticipated this; he nodded to Iūrups and his accomplice leapt up after her onto the wall. Leliana was almost halfway up the wall, but Iūrups drew out a dagger with a green tinted blade, he swiped at her shin. She cried out in pain, but kept climbing in spite of the pain. Before she could reach the top, a terrible tiredness overcame her; she was struggling to keep her eyes open, her muscles weakened and her head seared with pain as if she had woken up after a whole flagon of dwarf ale. She could not sustain her escape, she could not resist the effects of what must have been poison; the effect was just like the time when she succumbed to the Sloth Demon's sleep spell. She fell from the wall and into her enemy's hands. One of the mercenaries drew out a large sack, and Aundar loaded her unconscious body into the sack, taking care to have a moment to relish in her body while she was unconscious, smiling with heartless satisfaction as his hand moved across her.  
"Let us return, to Marjolaine we will take her." He announced to his brethren, and to his word they pillaged the bodies of their comrades, and took their bodies, as per François orders; to take any body off the street.  
"What did I tell you," Iūrups took this chance to revel in his success, "We tell the guards that there's trouble from her returning, with the aid of the Mistress's connection with the Captain who arrested her and of these letters with the Duke's name on them, we were abound to get their aid. Now the conquest of Orlais begins." In her sleep-induced state, Leliana's inner core attempted to answer the call to life in vain, and only one thought governed her mind: _Aldanon_.


	18. Emotion in Conflict

**Emotion in Conflict**

As soon as the darkspawn army had mobilised, Aldanon and his group made as hasty retreat from the forests as fast possible, doing their best to evade the spies of the darkspawn such as genlocks and shrieks. The day seemed to be darkening early, and under the forest trees it almost seemed like a starless night. The familiar dark clouds that heralded the presence of darkspawn and blocked out the sun hung over them, ever advancing towards Val Royeaux. Once out of the forest and into the farmland, they started to encounter streams of refugees leaving the countryside by horse, mule and cart, often escorted by a small detachment of the Empress's chevaliers, all heading towards the city in order to get beyond the reach of the horde.

At times, Aldanon would catch the faces of the people, the folk of Orlais whom he barely knew, yet was told to defend; they were not his people, but he was prepared to fight and potentially die for them to protect humanity from the darkspawn. Their faces were on the whole a mixture of grief, fear, despair, bitterness, and angst; yet amidst the atmosphere of despair that hung over them like the dark clouds in the sky, some souls held resistant courage and even pride in the faces of probable death, inspiring their fellows to resist the dark pallor and have courage. Inside, Aldanon ardently approved; he was reminded that so much courage could be found in the least likely of places, so Duncan had told him once when he told him about how he met Alistair. He also remembered that part of his duty to Orlais and the Wardens was the willingness to face death. After all, Ferelden did not truly need him, Queen Anora could govern the land, whether by popular rule or not. He was in the end, no more than a glorified general, than a true king or warrior, he never truly proved he was more than the image of Cailan was. Should Anora have given the order, he would march to war in knowing the odds against him. He needed to speak to Wynne about this.

+++++++++++++

By the time they reached the city walls, the army was almost ready to receive the darkspawn. The chevlaiers had all assembled at the top of the hill. Charles was waiting for him at the city gates, his heavy dragonbone armour glowing with a tint of sunset red giving him a more invigorated image in spite of his age, Duke d'Aubrac was there with him in his royal heavy chainmail. Aldanon moved ahead of the group to address the senior warden.  
"Welcome back," Charles greeted Aldanon with a clasping of hands "we were afraid that you may have been attacked or had lost someone during the task. Did you find anything that could give us an insight on the enemy?"  
"We were attacked a few times, even ambushed. But judging by the number of dead darkspawn in that area, I would imagine at least a whole patrol." Aldanon said, his face showing the signs that he had witnessed a dragon attack "I must speak with you regarding the leadership of the darkspawn and their plan of attack, in private."  
"You found the darkspawn leader. I understand?" Charles asked the young warden, "Meet me at my tent, and bring anyone else who saw this darkspawn. The rest of your group will have to rest for now, and receive the Duke's orders for the battle when night falls." He turned to retire to his tent, but the Duke's hand stayed him.  
"Perhaps if I may share words with the Warden first, before you lecture him. I have some news for him of the direst urgency." Charles looked at him bewildered, the Duke had wanted little to do with Aldanon until now, and why he suddenly wanted to speak to him now was anyone's guess. Aldanon's anxiety acted up again.

"Aldanon has tactical evidence which I will reveal to you as soon as I am finished speaking with him. Wait awhile." The Duke's will to remain unnerved stayed his urgency, and he left to rejoin his soldiers. Aldanon gestured to Osecar, Elanea and Geoffrey to follow him to Charles' tent. As they entered the city, he continued to feel the Duke's cold, vindictive, remorseless eyes piercing into him. His unease even spread to the other members of his group, each reacting to Aldanon's sudden loss of confidence in hushed tones.  
"The Duke really doesn't like him, does he?" Osecar divulged with Elanea, who frowned at the notion.  
"Well he is acting as if he's entitled to power within Orlais," Geoffrey said in response, experience as a chevalier behind his voice "the Duke won't like that, he's been covetous of his power. Aldanon should be more careful."  
"Regardless, from what I've heard of the Duke, he's been accused of wielding more power than he's entitled unjustly." Elanea countered hotly Geoffrey, her expression coagulated with anger in memory "Look what he did to that elf the other day! Had Aldanon not interfered, the Duke would have had him flayed!" They continued down towards Charles' tent, and Aldanon continued to feign little interest; but in truth his companions' approval heartened him.

+++++++++++++

"What you saw, are you certain of what it was?" Charles had questioned the witnesses to the intelligent darkspawn ceaselessly since Aldanon's group arrived and settled down in his tent. "There can be no mistakes, but if it truly is the source of intelligence in the darkspawn's army, then were it to fall in battle, the horde may, hopefully, break with its commander dead. But to that end we will all have to be extra careful, and treat the darkspawn as a tactical, thinking enemy, as opposed to a monster force."  
"Indeed, Charles," Aldanon agreed unenthusiastically, but his interest for battle against his old foes rose up inside him "Nevertheless, I trust that the information my team and I gathered will prove useful?" he asked.  
"It will be, perhaps you will play a significant part in the leader's defeat. With the information you've gathered about their strategy, we'll be able to find a way to oppose them."

"I'm still unnerved about this intelligent darkspawn," Osecar joined in fearfully, "it behaved like a proper general and their army was far better equipped than most darkspawn we've ever met."  
"Regardless, if you hadn't stopped me from shooting the leader, Osecar, the enemy would be without a commander by now." Elenea bristled at the elven mage; Osecar merely frowned at her unnecessary brazenness.  
"It may have also alerted the darkspawn of your presence and set the whole horde upon you." Charles said tolerantly, "On the walls of the city and with the army, we all stand a better chance of ending the horde." He rose from his chair and wandered to his map of the city and picked up a scroll from which he was writing on, "Geoffrey, take these instructions back to the Duke; they're my recommendations for how to counter the horde's manoeuvres and a proposed plan of how to kill the intelligent darkspawn; one that you will be part in, Aldanon." Aldanon's brow shot up keenly, he rose up from his chair and examined the scroll in Charles' hands.

"Well, this shouldn't be too hard, all I have to do is... wait a moment," he read further and his brow shot up once again, this time with a mixture of tension and doubt. "You want me to go into the field and kill this darkspawn commander? Where he'll likely be surrounded by the toughest darkspawn and be hard to beat in combat?"  
"If you can't kill it, Aldanon, no one can." The elder warden urged, "The hope is that the darkspawn will break without a leader to direct them. My confidence is with you in this, and rest assured you will not do this alone." Aldanon would have protested that he was king of Ferelden and not meant to fight on the front line, but now was time to be a grey warden. He had almost believed that the days of charging into the enemy's interior were over.  
"I will do this, Commander Charles," he said at last, with a hint of minor reluctance. "When do I set forth?"  
"Wait until the battle begins, there will be a postern gate in the southern wall, the Ferelden knights will be with you. You will need to try and isolate the commander and do battle with it. If you cannot find a way to battle it on its own, retreat back to the city and aid with the defence. But for now, take some time to rest."

+++++++++++++

Aldanon was now left on his own, Charles words echoing in his ears. He wouldn't have imagined that this was his purpose for coming to Orlais; though he didn't blame Charles for the ill coincidence, he did regret that the war against the darkspawn was far from over. What made the mission difficult for him was the unease he felt about this intelligent darkspawn; it seemed more powerful than anything he had ever faced. There was also the same feeling he had felt about the battle being akin to Ostagar, normally he would face battle valiantly and with a level of eagerness, yet tempered with war rage, now there was apprehension and disquiet in his heart.  
"Is there something on your mind?" a gentle voice flowed to his ears, it was Wynne. She was always his best source of advice when they were battling the Blight, and she always agreed to his actions, words and deeds.  
"Wynne, I feel at loss about the battle to come," he said morosely, "normally I'm prepared to face my foe with all due courage, but this feels too much like Ostagar. Do you think that the Orlesian Wardens expect too much of me?" he beckoned her to sit down beside him, as she listened to him, her face understood his sorrow.

"Your reputation as the Hero of Ferelden has given people the impression that you're almost invincible." She said in an even voice, "But your anxiety is not unnecessary; I too feel that this is too close to the disaster of Ostagar. You've never shunned your duties to the Wardens and Ferelden, so why do you doubt yourself now?"  
"I don't honestly know, at times I feel as though I've failed my lot in life. At one point, I felt satisfied in battle, believing that I would reap something from it. Do you believe that one should have time to gather his strength?"  
"Yes I do, provided they use it wisely, spend it with friends and family, and not spend it idly." She said simply.  
"I've been beginning to feel dissatisfaction, but I know I shouldn't be. It's just that -" He paused suddenly, he adjusted his seeking and looked into Wynne's deep blue eyes with sincerity and longing, "I am still a grey warden above all else, and there was no reason to be grieved if I died. I know you've told me to take heart in my duties, but now there's little left for me other than duty. My queen may not truly love me, my friends have scattered to do their duty, and for all my fame and respect, I still long to have a family again. All that made life more precious; family, love, a life in company of friends; all that was gone because he had either spurned or lost it. Perhaps it's just me being too craving, but so far that's what's been on my mind lately. I know it shouldn't be." Wynne stared at him stunned, this is the first time in a while that Aldanon had opened his thoughts out to her. She shook her head slowly, as if she was struggling to process Aldanon's discourse, and tears formed.  
"Oh, who are you and what have you done to Aldanon?" she sighed in despair, but held his hands comfortingly "You were never one to lose hope in war;" she said kindly at first, but her voice soon hardened, "you're not going to give up on my watch! You've always cared for all around you, there was never a time when you abandoned them. So why surrender to your inner feelings now? The darkspawn have returned in force."

"I know that, Wynne, but..." he stopped at loss for words again, his face was clouded by suppressed emotion, "Ever since Morrigan abandoned me at the end of the war, I felt as if she had never really cared for me, merely used me as a tool, in spite of all the defences I had to put up in her favour. You and I clashed often over her."  
"We did, but I overcame my worries about her when I realised you loved her." She said calmly, her eyes lost in ill memory of when Aldanon and she argued about Morrigan, and how she warned him that she could use him.  
"Since then," Aldanon resumed, "I come to realise that my love for others and their love for me is my strength, but of late there's been little of it because there's no one else left. Morrigan never loved me, and was insistent that we avoid it, but now I realise that Leliana may have actually loved me, and I spurned her because I did not love her. I was a fool. I still am." Wynne's eyes narrowed on him, trying to study what was going on in his mind. When Aldanon looked tearfully up at them, they were a combination of pity, disappointment and understanding.  
"You loved Leliana as a friend; did you ever love her as more?" she asked, the tiny, insignificant notion being mulled over in her wise mind. A future of what could have been yet wasn't due to one man's misunderstanding. "I'm not sure you ever could have been; your plans to rule alongside Queen Anora would have made things very difficult for you and her. You knew the marriage to Anora was little other than a political measure, yet resolution drove you to consent to it because you thought that Alistair would not have made a good king." When she finished, Aldanon looked as if he had been dosed with an even unhealthier quantity of the darkspawn taint.

"Did I do the right thing though, taking the throne? What do I do from now on? When King Maric reclaimed the throne, he had Lady Rowan as his source of strength throughout the war and his reign. Did she give him strength during his most trying of hours?" he questioned her, his eyes eager for answers. For a moment, Wynne searched her conscience for the right answers, ones that held both wisdom and reasonable ground.  
"You did what you judged to be right," she said clearly and after a long while, "using your noble birthright to serve as a guardian to the throne hopefully until another heir of Maric's succeeds you. Maric certainly did find that Rowan sustained him, she would give him strength when he most needed it, perhaps you are in need of such thing. As for how you can overcome this sudden arrival of despair; try to train yourself to let go of these feelings, let your old passions for battle arise in you again and serve as your guardians, attempt to put the past behind you, and above all; you are no fool. You've remembered the lessons I taught you, but applying them has only become slightly problematic. Just remember, you will always have my support, and that of all those who travel with you now." She patted him on the shoulders, and he held on to her hand. Aldanon continued to stare sullenly at the floor, but Wynne sensed that he was in thought and left him. Long after Wynne left, something caught his eye; Duke d'Aubrac was waiting to speak to him.


	19. Upon the Walls

**Upon the Walls**

Duke Claude d'Aubrac seemed surprisingly at ease as he walked with him to the walls of the city to witness the scene of the chevaliers on the march northwards. With the information they gathered, they rearranged the strategy as to ensure that the cavalry weren't skewered by the pikes; they would go north and gallop around the horde to the rearmost flank and then charge. d'Aubrac said he would join them as soon as the battle commences, and would ensure Aldanon would not perish. But assurances meant little to Aldanon now.  
"You said you wanted to speak to me?" Aldanon asked impassively, as he observed the silver column of chevaliers assembling, their armour reflecting the tint of sunset gold in the late afternoon.  
"We have only a short time before the battle commences, my captain's estimate roughly two hours. But there is something you may want to do." Aldanon stirred slightly, looking him in the eye. "One of my men within the city watch has an interesting report. One of their captains, Detrer has arrested a former companion of yours: Leliana." No sooner had he said this word, Aldanon ignited into action, his face was a portrait of urgency, yet one that deeply concealed greater emotional attachment. "She's been taken by a sect of criminals whom my men and I have been hunting since a week before you arrived. We've pinpointed their base; a decrepit old warehouse. We also suspect that now that they've captured her, they will not be anticipating an attack. I don't suppose you know why they would capture a citizen of Orlais and hold her to ransom, do you?" his eyes seemed to search him for the truth, but Aldanon's expression was one of resistance and faced down the Duke's analytical eyes which seemed to be masking something.

"All I remember of her the last time we spoke," Aldanon said pensively "was that she was intent of hunting down a fellow Orlesian bard called Marjolaine. Do you know of anyone by the name of Marjolaine, your grace?"  
"I do indeed. In fact, I suspect she's the one behind her capture and responsible for numerous other crimes that have been taking place in the city, including murder, theft and a long history of intrigue within the city."  
"What I'm curious of is why you suppose I would be involved; I have a duty to do. I will not shirk it" he said  
"Because the consequences of letting her die are more severe aren't they? Could you live with her death on your conscience knowing that you could have prevented it?" he asked Aldanon, his tone seemed enticing and exposing, as if trying to get Aldanon to agree. Another short while passed, and he continued to explore the Duke's words; they seemed too ideal, too convenient. There was something amiss, the hope that he could find Leliana rekindled inside him, but the message signalling trap had sounded in his head. The duke continued to speak for a while, but Aldanon had already slipped into deep thought; if she was in danger his inaction would result in most likely her death, but if he acted he would be late for the battle. He needed to tell one of his friends, this was no trivial task.  
"I can give you directions to where Marjolaine is based," he said in a cool yet persuasive voice, one which Aldanon was beginning to become curious of, "I would advise taking a few of my own soldiers for your defence. If you can save her within the first hour and a half, you can be back for the beginning of the battle." Aldanon thought for a few moments, the notion to acquire another ally seemed sensible enough, and he was normally more than a match for standard mercenaries, he never saw Marjolaine in battle, but could imagine her skill.

"Very well," he said at last, in a voice that was half sigh and half mild agreement. "I will see what I can do, perhaps I can negotiate something before it gets out of hand. But I should take one of my companions with me."  
"No!" the Duke's voice rose to a startling shout in protest, Aldanon was so stunned he jerked backwards, "They will not agree to accompany you. They will think you're shirking your duty." But questions kept surging in.  
"Yes but I am shirking my duty; and you are as well by convincing me to partake in this. Neither of us can know for certain if the report is genuine. Why would your men take interest of why one of my old allies is there?"  
"It's your choice in the end," he said in a legitimately sincere voice, one that prevented question. "I am only offering a chance to save a friend. Have we not been rivals too long?" Aldanon stared across the field to where the darkspawn would soon approach. For a long time he could see nothing beyond the darkening trees. A torch appeared, and another, and suddenly many more appeared in the distance. Time was running out.  
"Very well," he said in a defeated tone, knowing what he was prepared to do. "I will go alone. Do not make me regret this, d'Aubrac. And vitally, it this is some sort of trick, which I'm very prepared for, you will die."

++++++++++

Every fibre of being that was just and lawful in Aldanon's body was blaring out in his mind to abandon the rash course of leaving the army to chase a fool's errand, but still he went on. His assigned guards seemed no better at ease, but their agitations were due to being away from their lord, and presumably fear for their futures by abandoning their duties. The weather did not help either, the fell pall of the darkspawn clouds hung over the city, blotting out the early stars and the moon, and the high buildings blotted out even more of the sky, reducing it to meagre strips of navy blue and black. The guards told him that they were nearing the warehouse, but it did not make Aldanon feel any less self-doubting. And then they arrived, around the turn of another alley they came to the dilapidated strip of unused buildings that were marked on his map as the base. The city was completely darkened, now. One of the more prominent ones, a tall wooden structure with a largely missing roof, was identified as the one. Aldanon's heart pounded in alarm, but his will strove to overcome it, he was armed with his best swords; Maric's Blade and Starfang, his Royal Golden Armour and Cailan's Shield. He was a veteran of battle and prepared for anything, the mercenaries could harm him but could not possibly risk it without their lives being utterly destroyed.

But the atmosphere was more forbidding than anything he'd encountered within bounds of a city. It was cold, the nightfall air was soundless and windless with the pall of the darkspawn rolling across the sky, but Aldanon's very blood had frozen still, parts of his armour chinked together as he suppressed shivers. There was even a sense of dread and cruelty around the very building; the same he felt when he entered the Circle Tower when the abominations were on the loose. There was dark magic at work, demons were approaching. Everything was eerie, twisted and unnatural, and as if he were being deceived and losing his way and letting the darkness claim him. Every reason the retreat seemed imperative, but the hope that Leliana might be saved forced him to keep going.

++++++++++

He continued on the beaten pathway towards a rotten wooden door that must have been the entrance. He raised his gauntleted hand to knock, but no answer came. "Marjolaine!" he called out to the void, his voice ringing clear, "I am Aldanon Cousland, Hero and King of Ferelden, slayer of the Archdemon. You have captured a dear friend of mine, and I would request that you surrender her to my safekeeping, lest you suffer the full extent of my wrath. Surrender her to me and mercy may be shown to you by both Ferelden and Orlesian courts, succumb to bloodshed and I will fight to free her. Let us settle this in a civilized way." A period of silence passed and nothing happened and his fear amounted; what was she playing at? Suddenly the silence was broken; the noises of movement descended upon him. From the corner of his eye he saw movement on the walls and behind him. A great band of Anderfel mercenaries had cut off his retreat and were lead by a giant of their kind who appeared more beastlike than human, scores of archers had lined the walls, and a mage with a glowing magical wisp around him grinned pitilessly. Aldanon called to his guards but they had left his sides. He was trapped.  
_"Kill him."_ The mage announced to his minions. Aldanon snarled in defiance and donned his helmet.

++++++++++

They charged, their great red hauberks swept towards him like a red tide, roaring from the bottom of their lungs, for they were consumed by a savage rage that was akin to a berserkers, yet more feral than enraged. Behind him, the aged mage started to ready a spell of lightning. However, he would not go down without a fight. Aldanon charged, with every ounce of strength and valour in him, he charged. Swinging Maric's Blade in a wide arc, the charge was halted as two fell as he swiped at their necks. The survivors' weapons came down upon him in subsequence, but many a blow was parried, he held his shield in guard and swayed Maric's Blade at the joints in their armour, where it was weakest. Aldanon had gathered all his war rage, and he yelled to the heavens; all around him the enemy shuddered in surprise around him. Once he realised that a few had cowered, he smote them with a blow of the shield to the head and his magical sword into their bowels. Though he was equipped for the worst of situations, he was still alone and the enemy were many in number.

Then they came, barbed arrows of the mercenary archers; his shield deflected the ones to his front, but the ones to the rear had pierced the back of his armour. A stabbing pain assaulted his left armpit, an arrow had gone through the protective mail and into the lower part of his shield arm; his guard was now weakened. Suddenly a heavy blow knocked him to the floor; his shield had stopped the brunt of it, but he was winded and the mercenary leader, the wolfish one, was leaning over him with his huge war axe. It came down on him again, but reflex saved him again for he had rolled to the other side. He regained his footing and engaged the leader. His heavy strikes put a heavy toll on his weakened shield arm, but Aldanon thanked the Maker his sword was still strong. He applied more muscle to each strike, accessed a stamina potion and a healing potion from his pack while the Anderfel man was stunned by his shield and breasted him back. With a blasting blow of his shield, the leader was knocked back; Aldanon gathered momentum to finish him off, but the others rushed towards him.

The following moments were ones of extreme pain; with each blow Aldanon's armour was being sundered. Those whose guard was let down he struck down upon, but their weapons continued to assail him. He roared in rage again and let it fuel him, in his pain and wrath more fell. But in a moment of waning, they fell back. Aldanon turned to the mage and the archers. They fired; the force of all their arrows sending him to the floor his chest pierced by many light wounds. The mage's power came down; a column of fire rose up. His dragonbone armour was put to the test, but the intensity managed to lick into his flesh and burn it. He mustered himself to charge once again, but in vain for his stamina was spent. Suddenly he was knocked down – an axe had caught his leg. He turned to see the Anderfel leader's axe raised; he strained to move away – but a glowing cage had frozen him. He was paralysed. The axe descended upon him and he knew and fought no more.


	20. At the Enemy's Core

**At the Enemy's Core**

Leliana stirred to life. At first she didn't open her eyes, but she could tell that she must have been in her drakeskin leathers but her equipment must have been taken off her because her utility pouches felt empty. As she felt the poison leave her body, she groaned in soreness and fatigue, letting her body remain limp. Despite the fact that the poison must have worn out, she kept her eyes shut and wanted rest for her whole body felt heavy and weak. But then her head suddenly throbbed with blunt pain, she pulled her hand up to rub her head but could not reach it. She pulled harder and heard the sound of chains clinking on a metal lined wooden board. The ability to feel returned to her body and her eyes burst open, she realised to her shock that her hands were chained. She looked around her body to find her legs were chained to what seemed to be a stretcher meant for torture. She tugged and pulled to free herself, grunting in frustration as the effort was in vain. She glanced around her to see what appeared to be a darkened wooden warehouse with an exposed roof. She craned her neck upwards towards a hole in the ceiling, the black clouds that darkened the sky seemed familiar; the clouds that heralded a darkspawn approach – they must have been approaching. Her eyes, which were accustomed to the dark, could pick out extinguished torches. She continued to look about the wreck of the building, she seemed to be positioned on a crumbled flooring extension only a few planks long that had given away, there seemed to be stairs to her right, but she could not know for certain. The place was obviously inhabited, but by whom?

+++++++++++++

"Let me out! Let me out!" she called out to the darkness. For a while there was no noise, or very little. There seemed to be movement. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded in the dark, so close to her that she gasped in shock.  
"Ah, Leliana my old friend." The voice slithered into her mid, an edge of insanity driving into her "You may play innocent with me and say that I've hunted you, but the truth is I'm the one who's been hunted; by you. You've chased me around the icy crags of the Frostback Mountains, through the wooded glades of the Dales, and across the azure vaults of the Waking Sea. You hunted me; you hunted me and now the hunter is the hunted. As the bardic saying goes in Orlais; _La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid._" There was no mistaking that supple, strongly accented voice.  
"Marjolaine!" Leliana's normally musical voice rose to abnormally harsh and enraged one as she screamed that cursed name out. In response, Marjolaine presented herself to her, a look of prideful satisfaction on her aged face, her body clad in enchanted leathers and her bow, her old bow which she left behind, slung across her back.  
"Thank you ever so much for returning my bow, Leliana." she said in her supple yet distinctly paranoid voice in a disjointed way "And don't be surprised you were captured. "You were always as wet as a Ferelden dog in a pond; I had months to gather my resources while you were chasing dragons and darkspawn in the dog country."  
"Well at least I had the courage to face down dragons and other monsters," she yelled back as far out to her as she could "you would faint dead away and let the beasts put their blades into you, you worthless coward."  
"Enough of your squealing, girl!" Marjolaine hissed venomously "You do realise that I have the upper hand in this battle, one which you have already lost." She strode about the crumbled flooring smiling at her victory.  
"You have not won, Aldanon Cousland walks the city was we speak, and few within the city watch will cast aside their loyalties to the Empress as easily as Captain Detrer." She called out to her defiantly, wily wit and hope taking over "Once he knows that you have me as your prisoner, he will come down upon you like an Archdemon and reduce you to _nothing_. If he has the Empress in kind regard then that will surely come." But as she said this, Marjolaine broke into a series of choking gurgling sound that must have been chortling. At this moment, Leliana knew that hope was slipping away if not gone already. Her enemy strode over to her until she was so close to her that she could smell her foul breath floating with her lithe words away from her mouth.  
"Even now, after all this time you are so very naive. Do you not believe I would have prepared for the event that he would intervene? No. You should have left and never returned to Orlais, now you will bear witness to the end."  
"You are nothing, Marjolaine," Leliana yelled in defiance once again as her face hardened. "Nothing but an insane, cruel, and evil curse upon this fair world, had you not betrayed me your death would have been old age"  
"Wrong again. You betrayed _me_, Leliana, all those years ago when you should have stayed obedient to me and we could have been rich and happy. You should have let Val Royeaux become ours. Now, I have my revenge."  
"Mistress, I see someone coming." A mercenary, an alienage elf clad in weak leathers, suddenly appeared out of nowhere by her side, Marjolaine nodded patiently and dismissed the mercenary.  
"So, you've given yourself a new title for your cronies, Marjolaine?" she scorned her with suppressed outrage, "If so, then they are greater fools than you are. And you've taken to pressganging elves into your service, I see."  
"You will remain silent, girl." Marjolaine snarled her into submission as she turned about and threw a violent slap to her face. Leliana groaned in pain, sobs threatening to overcome her, "You will see; I have the upper hand." She clicked her fingers; and to her very action, a white radiance, a wisp, emerged out from the still air and floated towards the two women. From within its white light, Leliana could pick out faint images, scenes; a battle was unfolding, there also seemed to be a body, but she could not tell whose, but continued to gaze into the wisp.

+++++++++++++

Aundar examined the battered, bruised and hacked body that was once Aldanon Cousland, his axe had cloven the once proud and regal helmet in two; the visor was crumpled and broken from the main helm, and a huge slash cut across it. His golden armour was reduced to broken bits of gold-plated metal; the breastplate was punctured and severed in many places, and the boots and gauntlets lay worn and bruised by the battle. The left side of Aldanon's head was scarred by a great, bloody gash that left his face blooded and reddened; all his majesty was sundered and shattered, yet his bravery and formidability endured even in death; his enemies did well to keep away from him. Of the forty that assaulted him only a mere ten remained. Aundar checked his pulse; it was weak, but still present. Aundar would have gladly finished him off without a word's notice, but respect for his enemy's skill held him back. Suddenly an archer whistled to him from above. He gestured to the other mercenaries to retreat into the labyrinth of wrecked warehouses and slum buildings. They waited but a few minutes, and a new sight emerged from the main avenues; a man clad in silverite chevalier armour with a greatsword across his back, auburn hair and a youthful, if slightly drained face. It was Marquis Jacques.

+++++++++++++

He scanned around the alleyways, remaining where he was; he sensed that something was terribly wrong. The battle was virtually minutes away, and Aldanon had disappeared. His battles with the Ferelden king lead him to believe he would not abandon his comrades on the field of battle, and he wouldn't. There must have been a reason, the most evident one seemed to be treachery, Aldanon was intelligent enough to know who to trust and it would be explicable if he was told to go out here, by an enemy on the inside of the Orlesian forces, for whatever reason that might possibly draw him in. The only question is who or what would give him that reason? Suddenly, a loose brick was dislodged and fell to the floor. He drew his greatsword and held it out in front of him, as if he were expecting stealthed enemies to leap out and strike him. Unable to evaluate the situation, he strode down the alleyway towards the warehouse tentatively, his sword out in front of him. Something golden glinted in his eye. Aldanon's armour. He ran towards the source of the gold, and fell before his kews when he saw it; Aldanon lay virtually dead before him.

+++++++++++++

Having been conditioned to be a knight and a warrior first and foremost, Jacques had little time or room for emotion in him. But seeing what was once his newest and finest friend lie before him was too much. For the first time in ten years, Marquis Jacques wept bitter tears. He held Aldanon's head against his own, letting his tears drop unto his pale face. But the emotion had to be overcome, Jacques examined the young lord's body; noticing the cuts and gashes along his body and armour, and more noticeably the many arrows in his breastplates. He was ambushed. Jacques needed to bring his body back, perhaps there was a chance he was not dead. With all his strength, he lifted the limp body over his shoulders. But let him drop to the floor again. He froze in fear, the alleyways had come alive. Archers lined the walls, a cabal of malificarum dotted the walls, and ten anderfel mercenaries led by one powerful individual blocked the way. He was trapped.

+++++++++++++

Unwilling to submit, Jacques brandished his greatsword and rushed forth, not to battle but to escape. He could tell this was no battle one man could win. All of the sudden, he froze; a paralysis spell. Though all hearing around him was hushed, he could pick out the sounds of fire, frost and lighting spells being prepared by the accursed mages. Knowing he could not withstand the full might of seven mages, he made a silent prayer to the Maker, praying to keep the royal family safe and to preserve Orlais from the evil that claimed him. His time was up. The spell gave way, but not before electric shocks coursed through him. He doubled over in pain, roaring to the heavens, as the shocks ruptured his internal organs, and broke every nerve in his body. The spells of ice fell upon him, numbing anything that survived the shocks. The lead mage dropped down from the wall and stood before him, a white wisp hovering next to him. The electric shocks coursed through his armour, and were magnified by the metal and the ice. Knowing he was in no state to fight back, he stared into his enemy's eyes. François knew what they meant; _finish it_. He raised his staff and sent a surge of purple spirit energy into Jacques; he roared in pain once again and collapsed to the floor. He would never fight for Orlais again. Aundar and Iūrups stepped forth. The tevinter rogue opened his belt purse and drew a deep green poison that radiated heavy magic, and Aundar picked up Maric's Blade, which now lay defeated by Aldanon's side. He raised the blade, and with a colossal crack of broken armour it plunged it into Jacques' body. Meanwhile, Iūrups took Jacques greatsword and dripped the poison into the very tip of the blade. He strode over to Aldanon, who was beginning to show signs of return, with a wicked grin; he targeted a weak point in Aldanon's already shattered armour; along the side, near the stomach. The poison-tipped blade pierced the armour and into the flesh. Iūrups stepped away from the body, grinning victoriously as Aldanon's pallor returned to his skin and his blood flushed from the wound.

+++++++++++++

Leliana stared at the images that wisp projected to her, all life was drained from her normally fair skin as horror washed across her. She could not believe it, first vital intelligence on Orlais, now the murder of a high nobleman.  
"You will regret this Marjolaine," she said bitterly, her grief transforming into rising abhorrence. "You've bitten off more than you can chew by killing Marquis Jacques. All Orlais will descend upon you and Aldanon with them!" But Marjolaine barely heeded her, and instead turned towards the mage who had just returned from his deed. She nodded to him; and in response, François raised his arms and chanted, lowered them with force and to his magic's bidding the torches ignited and Leliana could see the extent of her enemy's machinations. In response to the light, lines of mercenaries, men and elves, marched out of the building from deep pits in the flooring. The smith, Benoit set about on his smith work. The mages were brooding over their future, which as Marjolaine had promised them seemed prolific. As Leliana observed this, she came to realise how hopeless her mission was.  
"As you can see Leliana, my future is assured, and you will bear witness to it. What you saw happened moments before your waking. Starting with your capture, then the death of the Marquis, and now this -" she gestured down the stairs, the sound of shuffling rolled up the stairs. Aundar dragged a large brown sack, large enough to fit a human in, he raised the sack from its base and out he fell. Aldanon Cousland, clad in his ruined armour. For a moment, Leliana could not believe her eyes; she blinked several times as if trying to dispel a vision and continued to stare at him in horror. Francois snapped his fingers and the machine released her. She fell to his side, tears erupting from her like bitter torrents, and heavy sobs bursting from her as she took Aldanon in her arms, feeling his cold hands and pulseless neck confirmed her fears. She murmured softly to him in a broken voice; "Aldanon, wake up. Oh please wake up." But her pleas went unanswered. For a moment, all else around her was irrelevant, she was with Aldanon at last and cared not for the world._ If only I'd never come here,_ she sobbed into his cheek, _if only I'd never returned to Orlais and stayed by his side as his friend and, and... _She took his cold, ashen head in her arms, her cries ringing in the ruined halls that were her dungeon and his grave. In that moment of temporary calm the moon appeared, her moonlight tears falling upon Leliana and Aldanon, illuminating her tears that trickled down his face. Whatever poison Iūrups used, it seemed to have destroyed what remained of Aldanon.

+++++++++++++

Marjolaine looked down upon this scene of reunion in loss, indifferent to it and completely unmoved. In her cold eyes, all she saw was a weakling who failed her years ago and had fallen for a prince of paupers. Her thoughts focused on Leliana's next move. The moment was over; Leliana looked quickly up at her foe, breathing heavily in suppressed rage. She stared at her for a long time, her rage was growing to dangerous levels and her skin showed tints of hot scarlet but her foe remained apathetic. She struck out for Marjolaine. Her foe dodged to the side and Leliana careered across the floorboards and clung on to have retribution. Aundar stepped forth, and with a solid grip of his giant clawed paw he lifted her up as she struggled violently, cursing all around her, and François held his staff towards her struggling head, with a brief incantation she dropped to the floor, unconscious.  
"Strap her to the holding device, and return the body to the streets." She commanded her minions.


	21. Drums of War

**Drums of War**

"Where is he?" Osecar's eloquently accented voice now had a discord of fear in it. He had waited on the walls of the city with Geoffrey Oghren, Wynne, and Zevran, watching the darkspawn hordes pour out of the trees and assemble for battle on the outside of the city. The darkspawn pall that settled over the city. The fear that had taken hold in Osecar's mind had spread to all the others, the darkspawn would not wait for Aldanon and yet he was needed here and now of all times. What was worse was the fact of Marquis Jacques disappearance; and on top of that, Duke d'Aubrac had left the field to return to one of his castles in the city. Geoffrey's normally composed authority was beginning to break under the pressure of waiting, which Charles was disapproving due to his lieutenant's role in leading the army.

"We cannot wait any longer; one of us needs to go into the city and find him and the Marquis." Geoffrey's hard voice carried to the rest of the group while they watched the darkspawn assemble on the field anxiously.  
"But if the Warden Commander catches one of us leading, he would call us deserters," Zevran stated sensibly  
"And I don't wanna know what the punishment for that is here!" Oghren added, nudging Zevran's side hard.  
"One of us will still have to go, what if Aldanon's in trouble?" Wynne asked rhetorically. The rest of the group stopped to think for a few moments, uncertain how to proceed. Osecar's logic based mind would have dictated that they continued the battle without him, but Aldanons essentiality was vital for victory.  
"I will go," he announced with a sudden flow of courage and resolution, striding about the walls "I will take a horse and say that I'm running a few last-minute errands for the templars and try and locate him."  
"How will you find him, Osecar?" Wynne asked in confusion, in response Osecar drew out a thin vial of blood with thick green glass, no bigger than a small lyrium potion. Zevran and Wynne gave him analytical looks and studied the vial; Oghren glared at him and stifled a belch, and Geoffrey's rigid stoic look hardened still.  
"Where the sod did you get that, mage?" Oghren questioned him in an outraged and disgusted voice.  
"I took it as a sample to test his blood for infections from a genlock knife wound," Osecar explained to the group and started applying numerous ingredients from his belt to the blood and started whisking it around, moving away from the group as he prepared the concoction, and overlooking the city, "he wasn't poisoned, but I couldn't simply cast the sample away. If I apply the blood to my arcane abilities, and focus on a scrying spell, the spell will seek him out, and then I should be able to locate him." He added the last ingredient, a small portion of lyrium dust. The potion started to glow intensely with magic, so much so that Osecar flinched as the energy heated his hand. Suddenly the potion exploded, releasing a glowing spark of magic, swirling with the blood from the sample. As if alive, it rocketed around and started circling around, as if trying to detect its origins, only Osecar could follow it's movements.

"I need to follow it, wait here!" he announced to the group urgently, "I'll fire a blue spark into the sky if he's alright – it will mean he's returning. If you see a red spark shoot into the air it will mean trouble, and Wynne, you will have to ride to the Empress and warn her if that happens, take the Zev and Ogrhen with you to join the Empress. Geoffrey and I will have to remain here with the wardens and the rest of the army." When he finished he jumped, right over the edge of the wall he jumped. The others rushed over to see had had landed safely, and he had, right next to a lightly clad horse too. Before Geoffrey could command him to stop, he saddled up and galloped off into the city after the magical spark. The rest of the group stared after him in utter surprise as his mounted form disappeared into the winding streets of the city. Zevran and Oghren stared at the horse that sped off into the distance, incredulous looks painting their faces at the suddenness of it all.  
"Heh, not bad for a little guy, who would've thought it, eh Zev?" Oghren commented Zevran, who nodded.  
A smile grew across Wynne's face, a proud, satisfied look that was reminiscent to a teacher pleased of an old pupil who had found success in life, and Geoffrey raised his hand to scratch his helmeted head in confusion.  
"Geoffrey, have you considered the boy a position as second Warden-Lieutenant?" Wynne said to Geoffrey in admiring tone, clearly impressed by Osecar's sudden actions, Geoffrey simply stared at her incredulously.  
"If we knew about this ability of his earlier," Geoffrey explained, wholly surprised "he would have been made an officer, but he never came out of his shell, always thinking about magics and practicing by himself."  
"It goes to show that we mages are full of surprises." She chuckled.

+++++++++++

The spark of magic that whizzed through the city was enough to leave Osecar's lightly saddled steed tired out within a few minutes. Fortunately, judging by the intensity of the glow of the spark, he seemed to be getting closer to Aldanon. All of the sudden, his horse stopped in fear. She whinnied and reared up, as if trying to fight an invisible foe. Osecar dismounted before she could rear up again, once he was off he could distinguish what his steed was sensing. There was something evil afoot in the air; foul magic. He tied the horse to a nearby tree and left her there, knowing that if she were to take flight he would be stuck, and in danger. He strode towards the source of the magic, keeping his illuminated staff ahead of him in his right, and a small fireball in his left. He could sense the magic was coming from the back alleys of the city, where hundreds of petty criminals made their villainous lives in the city's shadow. But the spark moved away from the source, towards one of the main roads in the city, Emperor's Avenue, a region mostly comprised of common folk houses. The spark was glowing very brightly now, suddenly it raced down the avenue towards something broken and clad in gold, near something silvery. Osecar stopped dead in his tracks, he knew what it was. His heart exploded into his throat as he ran towards the figures; both of them were very familiar. Aldanon and Jacques lay dead in a pool of blood beside each other. He stared at them in utter disbelief, stepped back and blathered in incomprehensible shock for a moment, and then with his entire might of magic, jets of blood-red light shot into the sky.

+++++++++++

Commander Charles had given the Empress and Queen Anora strict instructions to remain at Palais Royeaux to wait out the battle. But the sight of red light from the depths of the city was a worrying sight. It seemed that the only one to perceive the signal as a message of urgency was the Maximus the mabari. It was almost as if he could sense and smell the danger his master was in, and the evil behind it. It wasn't until a quarter of an hour later had the signal been seen that horses galloped out of the mist. Wynne, Zevran and Oghren rode towards the entrance of the palace to find Empress Celene, Queen Anora, their fellow courtiers, Ser Perth and the knights, and their respective guards waiting outside the palace, both leaders were looking so concerned it was unnerving, for both were confident rulers, who shouldn't know fear.  
"Your Majesties come quickly!" Wynne urged breathily to the two monarchs, who stood surprised at her urgency. "Something terrible has happened and we think Aldanon and Marquis Jacques are in trouble!

"What are you talking about Wynne?" Anora queried in confusion, Celene's eyes widened in fear at the mention of her young cousin being in danger. Their retinues and guards stirred about, clearly distressed by the notion.  
"Please, there's no time, Queen Anora! You both need to come with us before it gets out of hand. Follow us!"  
"I recognised where the signal came from;" the Empress joined in at once, just as afraid as her fellows. "It was over Emperor's avenue, I can get you there quickly by foot. I'm afraid the horses must be taken back."  
The rest of the party nodded in agreement and dismounted, and the Empress lead the way forth from the compound of the palace. Sensing the movement taking place, Maximus rushed to Wynne's side, whining pleadingly to join them. Oghren was normally used to carrying his weight, but the worrying fear in his stomach prevented him from running very quickly. Zevran's normally calm mind was breaking under the tension of the possibilities of what manner of danger awaited them; he knew this was the worst time to be under attack from a new force. The guards opened the great rail doors, and the whole group filed out of the palace and into the city.

+++++++++++

Anora ran through the streets with her escorts and several of the Ferelden embassy, her heart pounding in her chest, as if war drums were being sounded across the kingdom. She never really asked herself how she truly felt towards Aldanon, they got off to a good start, but he would challenge her regularly in meetings, but they never let it interfere with their personal lives. But now, with word of Aldanon dying or even dead, the thought chilled every fibre in her body._ Who could possibly kill Aldanon,_ she thought,_ and why? _Wynne, Zevran, Maximus and Oghren tried to keep pace with the desperate parties, but Wynne's age and Oghren's obesity slowed them down. The Empress and the Orlesian aristocrats were with her, she ran fairly slowly due to her huge dress, even tripping occasionally, but there was purpose and conviction in her pace. Both Ladies and their respective parties followed the Empress's to the street where the signal came from. A crowd of people had gathered there, and the guardsmen were keeping them in check. What they saw was more nightmare than a reality. Both men, Aldanon and Marquis Jacques were lying in a pool of blood. Anora let out an anguished scream that pierced the cityscape and collapsed at Aldanon's body. Celene wailed in horror too, but at the Marquis' death rather than the Warden King's. Their respective groups also broke out into a fevered dirge of weeping, gasping and screaming, at the sights of their respective lords. By the time Aldanon's former companions arrived at the scene, they had to force their way to see. Wynne was the most horrified at the bloodbath, she went deathly pale at once and she was suddenly colder than the evening air. She collapsed to her knees and knelt beside Aldanon's side.

"Nooo!" she wailed, her voice both pained and breaking with woe and terror "What has happened here?! Why him? Why of all the damned souls in this world, why his?!" she shrieked, tears flooding down her cheeks, soaking her robes, slowly she bundled up into a small ball and continued to weep. Maximus, Aldanon's loyal, steadfast hound broke down into lamented howling, Zevran ran over to comfort Wynne, gasped in shock at the pale corpse that was once his leader and friend. Oghren, who was carrying his mighty Vashoth battleaxe, literally dropped it and let out a noise in which no one could tell if it was an angry yell or a horrified one, but both emotions were relevant.  
"I can scarcely believe it; I thought he was almost invincible." Zevran said, despair in his voice "Whatever treacherous scum did this, I will ensure they live to see my blade." He added in a tone that neared venomous.  
"By the sodding Stone, I thought he would die in the deep roads like a Warden, not here in this place." Oghren moaned "Bad things are afoot, I'm sure." He picked his axe up and leant on it, head down. Celene, who had been nursing the Jacques' corpse, tears also streaming down her face, raised her head to Anora who ignored Jacques.

"Queen Anora, your Aldanon was a fine man, but one of my own lies in a pool of his blood. Please, show some recognition for his death." Anora listened closely, but was unmoved by Celene's tearful plea.  
"Every ounce of respect due to the Marquis from us is yours, Celene, but a greater, far more heroic man lies dead as well. The man you said yourself saved Orlais." Anora's tone was becoming ruthless, almost demanding of the Empress, yet with a sign of criticality. But Celene met her claim with sharper words still, shaken by her conduct.  
"If you held your cousin's own body in your hands, would you not shed tears for one who was once family?" she challenged Anora with a hardened expression. Anora was more than prepared this time and became as stone.  
"I've held my father's bloodied corpse in my own hands, empress, he was the man who freed Ferelden with King Maric. I know what it's like to lose family, even if they committed wrongs before their deaths."

"Will you both shut up?!" Wynne's voice interrupted, grief still strangling her. "Two of our lords lie dead and you're discussing your pride?! Justice must be done here and now! Aldanon's murderer must be found." She collapsed back into weeping. Anora shook her head, still refusing to believe that Aldanon was dead.  
"I'm sorry, Celene. But the unthinkable has occurred, we need to discover the truth of all this." Anora declared.  
"I just can't quite stomach it!" Oghren shouted "He never died when we fought the Blight, how can he die here? In Orlais!" added the dwarf. Zevran's grieved expression suddenly became analytical. _There was something wrong with the way Aldanon looks_, he thought. He bent down to examine him, becoming more puzzled. Something sprung up in his mind; he recognised something of Aldanon that only he would notice.

+++++++++++

But then Duke Claude d'Aubrac entered the scene, with a whole patrol of his personal guard. What was he doing away from the army? What about the darkspawn? More to their surprise, he seemed quite collected despite the carnage. He was clad in a unique set of armour consisting of dragonbone with reds steel and a volcanic aurum. He walked over to Aldanon's body, and picked up Maric's Blade, Wynne snapped into a furious action.  
"Unhand that blade right now, you greedy swine!" she growled with her staff raised, but the Duke ignored her, fingering the bloodied blade. He seemed somewhat proud of what he was doing, and what he was about to do and that confused Wynne. He motioned to one of the guards in Orlesian to raise the Marquis' body, opened the wound where a sword would have been, and slid the sword into the wound. There was no sound of flesh being cut. It fitted perfectly. The orlesians gasped, but the Fereldens became angry at the Duke's apparent accusation.  
"As you can see, it was the lord Aldanon who killed Marquis Jacques; his blade matches the wound in his chest." He proclaimed, satisfaction in his voice, "And that means;" he paused and shouted "_Ferelden treachery!!_" pointing his finger across t the Fereldans. Swords rang across the street, Anora's group was outnumbered.

"WHAT!!??" the empress screamed, almost unable to comprehend or accept her husband's words, to whom she was screaming to no one could tell. "How could Aldanon murder Jacques? This, this is terrible!"  
"You can't accuse _us _of treachery, you two-faced bastard! How dare you blame us?!" Anora shouted him down. d'Aubrac, but he was undaunted, and the shadow that was over them suddenly intensified as rage amounted.  
"Anora!" the empress hissed at her, "You speak to my husband, show respect, the sword fits the wound."  
"How can you believe that Aldanon would stoop to such low levels of evil?!" Anora demanded furiously, rising to challenge Celene directly, her face was a helm of determination and growing rage. "He was a hero."  
"Your father, Loghain was a hero and he betrayed your first husband, Cailan." The Empress retorted. Anora's rage was amounting to more terrible heights. Wynne and the others backed away from the brewing trouble.  
"You've bitten off more than you can chew, you backstabbing Orlesian!" Anora screamed maliciously.

"You see?" d'Aubrac turned to Celene "I told you these Fereldens could not be trusted, they deserve to be executed here and now. They murder one of our own, and blame us for the death of their lord. I say we kill them here and now! For Orlais!!" and in response, more swords were drawn and more soldiers began to flank him. But Wynne was one step ahead of him; she picked up Jacques' greatsword and noticed a part of the blade was missing, and looked at the open wound in Aldanon's body and noticed a shard, and examined it. It was the same metal as Jacque's sword, and she put the shard into the part of the blade where the metal was missing.  
"Your majesty," she turned to Anora, "This sword is missing a shard of its blade; and I found this in the king's wound." She showed the sword to Anora and matched the notch to the shard; it fitted perfectly. There were more gasps of terror, shock and rage from the Orlesians, d'Aubrac noticed Wynne's deduction and fear flushed his face. "You see what this Fereldan accuses us of, my lady?! I have never seen such slander in my life! An Orlesian does not stoop to murder, unlike Fereldan dogs!" he taunted the Fereldans, who began roaring with rage and drew their swords, their bravery amused the Orlesians. The blood drained from Wynne's face as she realized what she just did, terror rising in her. More and more Orlesian soldiers were joining d'Aubrac's side, their blades drawn and their faces distinctly evil.  
"Empress Celene, my mage has presented clear evidence that your cousin murdered my husband, and such an act is a declaration of war. Aldanon would not attack for any reason other than self-defence."

"You underestimate your standing, Queen Anora." Celene threatened "Jacques would not attack a soul for a half-copper. The death of a royal noble by foreign hands in Orlesian lands is liable to be punished by death. Or war, as you prefer. You have struck the first blow." Her voice was becoming more hostile. Ser Perth stepped forth.  
"My Ladies please!" he beseeched in a voice that lacked his normal calm, trying to appeal to them "The enemy is on our very doorstep, we cannot afford to be divided. We need to help our lords, they may not be dead!"  
"Know your place, Ferelden _dog_!" the Duke shouted him down belligerently, drawing his sword towards Ser Perth, "We will have no more dealings with traitorous barbarians; will we, my lady?" he turned to Celene, who was so pale and lost in grief, it seemed as though she were no longer Empress of her own realm.  
"So be it," Celene concluded, regretful acknowledgment in her voice "from this hour henceforth, the Orleisan Empire declares war against the kingdom of Ferelden for heinous crimes committed in our lands, even if it means your inevitable defeat." Onlookers gasped in terror and some fled, but the soldiers stood their ground and drew blades. Over the heads of the challengers, a storm was brewing, thunder rolled in the clouds like mighty war drums. Anora had to defy the empress, to yield surrounded by her soldiers would be her death.

"Go against Ferelden and you will lose, Celene. We defied the Orlais once and we will do so again." She growled, but Celene's control over the growing chaos though her husband's control was evident. She accepted the challenge with an emotion that no one could tell was grief or anger, but she quickly cooled down.  
"Your pride blinds you Anora. You struck the first blow, and now we strike ours." Celene said almost casually. "_Seize the bodies, Aldanon's too!!_" d'Aubrac cried out, and in a split second, orlesian soldiers led by him charged straight towards both bodies, swords drawn. Ser Perth rallied the Ferelden soldiers, and with a blow of his war horn, they struck out against the enemy. It turned into a blood bath. These orlesian soldiers were not prepared for the wrath and fury of the Fereldans, their faces had a wrath only akin to an enraged Maker and their grim determination set many soldiers into fleeing. But the d'Aubrac had anticipated this, suddenly from every corner of the city, beacons were being lit, and from the castles on each side of the city, silver lines were emerging from them; the Chevaliers were on the march, the ones who were being kept away from the battle by the his orders. And from the sky, the heavens screamed, and exploded above the battle, lightning surged from the sky, rain came down like a torrent, and fires were ignited, Val Royeaux recoiled in fear.

+++++++++++

The rain came down upon Val Royeaux like the wrath of the Maker himself, so much so that Anora was nearly blinded. She managed to get away from the chaos, still gasping and breathing heavily from the shock of it all, tears menaced to overcome her; _so this is what it's come to_, she thought, _my father would have never allowed this_. She noticed a soldier trying to recuperate from a fight with one of the empress's chevaliers; she clasped his shoulder gave him a scroll; the soldier gave her a inquiring look but her imperative tone turned it town.  
"Take this to our ship, give it to the captain; he'll know what to do with it, Godspeed." She struggled to remain engaged and keep her emotions in check, but the soldier obeyed, running as fast as the Maker allowed. Anora managed to pick up a bow and joined the fray, striking every orlesian that approached. But soon the carnage was amounting and it would be a matter of time until the rest of the enemy noticed her. As her retinue began to falter around her, she found herself in direct combat, and became vulnerable. Too late she noticed the mounted chevalier coming towards her. The next thing she felt was a heavy, powerful force on her shoulders knocking her down.


	22. Loose the Hounds

**Loose the Hounds**

Alistair sat uncomfortably on Denerim Palace's throne, Teyrn Fergus leaning on the wall just as uneasily nearby. The storm had raged around Denerim for three hours, but it wasn't the weather that was giving him unsettled feelings. But it wasn't just the two men; the other nobles assembled were under the spell of depression too. Arl Eamon of Redcliffe was beginning to feel the effects of the terrible atmosphere too, and struggled to keep his peace. They had gathered for another one of Alistair's frequent councils, and so far it was mostly Eamon who was making valid suggestions for Alistair to take up and advising him on how to carry out sanctions. Incidentally despite their initial fears, Aldanon's instructions had served Alistair well, and he was starting to come across as much a valid candidate for the throne as he could have been. But the fear that had taken over was inescapable, for it hung over the hall and stilled sound and caused the heart to grow cold. Fergus was soon unable to take it any longer; he could tell something was wrong, as if the Maker was calling it out to them. He turned to Alistair.  
"Alistair, talk to me, what's wrong?" he tried to say in a comforting voice, but Alistair jumped on the throne and turned abruptly. Fergus backed a little, but as soon as both men calmed Alistair answered.

"I... I'm not sure." He answered slowly, "I feel like there's something wrong happening in Orlais but I can't quite put a finger on it. I know it sounds crazy, but there was this one time when one of the elder grey wardens who came to Ferelden to aid with the Amaranthine garrison told me of how our taint also gives us the ability to sense other grey wardens in the same way we can sense darkspawn. I noticed what it was, when Aldanon left Denerim. This warden taught me how to find other wardens using the taint, even as far as Val Royeaux. But now that familiarity has dissolved, I can't find him. There's only absence. It's as if he's vanished from Thedas." Fergus nodded understandingly, for he had spoken many times with the wardens, and such things made sense to him.  
"I see what you mean; it's the same thing that's been affecting the other nobles, they're all unsettled and at loss for action. There's been no word from Aldanon since he told us about the darkapawn. Perhaps if we go to -"

++++++++++++

Before he could finish his sentence the sound of hoofs on stone could be heard. Suddenly, the large wooden doors of the palace collapsed to matchwood and a horseman charged across the hall. Before the nobles could begin ranting, a hysterical, panic-stricken mounted messenger dismounted his steed and stumbled exhaustedly across the hall towards Alistair, who got up and looked on confused and surprised.  
"_The king is dead!_" the messenger screamed, grief and exhaustion threatening to wrench his voice out. The nobles broke into frantic cries of 'What?!' and bickering amongst each other. Alistair rose from the throne with Fergus at his side, gesturing the nobles to move aside and Eamon joined them. Bann Teagan stared shocked at the messenger, holding his emotions back as he joined Alistair, Fergus and Eamon.

"Aldanon is....dead?" Teagan began falteringly, as if unwilling to believe it, "How could this happen?"  
"What has happened? How can King Aldanon be dead?" Alistair questioned, his voice filled with fear.  
"I know it sounds mad, but it's true. Aldanon was killed by the Orlesians and Anora was framed for plotting the murder of an Orlesian noble, Celene has declared war on Ferelden." The nobles broke into horrified gasps and fevered murmurs. "I was instructed by Anora to return to Ferelden in the event of a crisis. But I fear that Anora has either been captured or killed." He panted, terror still clutching at him. The nobles broke into a frenzied surge of cursing of the Orlesians, 'damned Orlesian bastards' being the most common. Arl Eamon took over.  
"How do you know about this? How long ago did this happen?" Eamon pressed the messenger fiercely.  
"Less than twelve hours ago, a series of beacons were lit from ships at sea and a mage was able to translate their message; it was a code, he told me, that Aldanon was dead and Anora captured." The nobles murmured to each other once more, and Alistair was becoming unable to take it. He turned, desperately trying to mull it all over.  
"I can't believe this," he began weakly, "Aldanon said they were on the verge of peace. Why would Celene do this? Something's wrong." But Eamon clasped his shoulder, his face grim and sullen with suppressed grief.  
"Alistair, I fear that it _is_ true. If we do nothing, the Empress will have her way and send her chevaliers, but I'm afraid we will have to do the unthinkable to save Anora. I think the Landsmeet know what it is."  
"We do, Arl Eamon." Fergus nodded, dread hanging in his voice "I do not wish it, but we must respond to the Empress's act of war and wage our own, to protect Ferelden and possibly rescue Anora." The nobles and soldiers responded in riotous cries of approval. Alistair stood stunned, as if he had seen an army of ghosts storm the hall.

"Are you all insane!?!" he cried in shock and horror, his skin pale in fright, "After all Aldanon has strived for to attain peace with Orlais, we want to wage WAR?!?!" he roared striding about the nobles, "Are we not better than Loghain was to want war with Orlais?" at his accusation the other nobles rallied behind Eamon's side.  
"I assure you, Alistair," Eamon began tightly, "if Loghain was here he would already be marching to Orlais as we speak. This is only a measure to ensure that Orlais either releases Anora and doing so avert the war, but if war is what they want then we will consent. Whatever reason the Empress has to want war, we must defend ourselves." Alistair grabbed his hair in terror; he was losing control of to Eamon. He turned to Teagan.  
"Bann Teagan, _please _tell Eamon that we can't seriously instigate a war in our weakened state!" he pleaded.  
"I agree with Alistair, Ferelden is far too weak to engage another war." He said firmly, Alistair sighed in relief. "But we cannot sit idly by while a new enemy waits on the horizon." He continued, giving way to sadness. Alistair stared at him in shock as the Bann stood morosely on the middle ground between the dispute.  
"I can't believe you people, it's as if you want war. It's as if Loghain never died" he seethed angrily, but asserted himself. "As chancellor, I forbid you to declare war on Orlais." He stated, falteringly. But this was met by a chorus of disapproval from the nobles. And one by one, the major lords met him head on.  
"The Empress will have committed regicide if Aldanon's truly dead," Bann Sighard told him, "the Bannorn will not sit idly by while their king is killed and their queen prisoner, nor when the chevaliers return to Ferelden."  
"Agreed, the Bannorn will support Eamon's bid for war, this is justice we are talking about."Bann Alfstanna joined in and turned to Eamon "I can send enough ships to send our troops to Val Royeaux."  
"South Reach's horses can cut across the Mountain Pass and join you as soon as possible." Arl Bryland of South Reach entered into the scene, and with these major nobles taking the front, more and more of the Bannorn and other nobles within the Landsmeet joined Eamon, soon it was only Fergus, the Grand Cleric, the Amarinthine Wardens, and Arl Wulff, who had seen enough of war, stood by him, but most of the lesser Banns had vouched for Eamon, eventually all eyes turned to the reappointed Arl of Denerim, Vaughn. He looked about confusedly at the scene and gave a look that said 'Don't look at me; I want nothing to d_Sometimes I wonder why Aldanon gave Denerim's arling back to him; _Alistair thought to himself_, he's useless_o with this.' . He quickly collected himself and turned to the Grand Cleric, surely if anybody would oppose war, it was the chantry.

"Your Reverence, surely we can't stand for such madness, should we not strive to learn the truth before we act?"  
"My siding with you is purely because the Chantry is based in Orlais, an act of war is an offence against the Chantry." She said flatly, so much for appealing to the Chantry's better nature. Alistair cleared his head.  
"We cannot give way to this mad, knee-jerk reaction." He stated solidly, "A more rational course must be taken; I don't believe Aldanon is dead, his old friends were with him. We must go to Val Royeaux but not to attack."  
"I fear that if we do come in peace, they may just attack us on principle, Alistair." Eamon answered firmly. "On behalf of the nobility of Ferelden, I call for a motion of war; let the Landsmeet decide for it to be carried." The Landsmeet declared their vote; Banns Sighard, Alfstanna, Ceorlic, Loren, and Arl Bryland concurred to the vote, the Grand Cleric, Bann Teagan, Arl Wulff and Fergus stood with Alistair. With Fergus' vote, the war motion was a stalemate. Alistair's relief was shattered when Vaughn threw his lot in with Eamon. The vote was against him.  
"Then on behalf of the majority, the motion is carried. As Maric once said; 'now we loose the hounds of war.'" The nobles who upheld the motion responded in reluctant applause, knowing this could well be their doom. Fergus gazed at the floor, defeated and demoralised, even as a teyrn, he could not deny a majority vote.

"Eamon, don't let this happen!" Alistair pleaded, "We can't win against Orlais. For all our sakes give the motion more time! I thought you would have been the last person to have become what Loghain was."  
"I am only doing what is necessary, perhaps if an army can rescue Anora, or indeed Aldanon if he's alive, then I promise you we will do that." Eamon said coolly, "But you must understand this is a war of defence, not conquest. If we do nothing, the Orlesian army can conquer Ferelden all over again." Alistair could not deny this fact. As the nobles of the Landsmeet convened to discuss a war effort with Eamon, Alistair, who was still incensed inside, left the hall, his rage bleeding out of him. Fergus remained silent throughout the discussions afterwards, the thought of his younger brother's death remained on his mind, his blood was stilled in shock from that evil possibility. He had never felt more powerless in all his life, and he was a teyrn. Nevertheless, he knew he could not simply comply with an act of war, an alternative solution must have resided somewhere.

++++++++++++

Within the private brewery of his temporary estate in Denerim, Alistair had downed his third mug of ale, or was it his sixth? He was still enraged inside, he could not believe that the nobility carried the vote to wage war. He was only an Arl and a chancellor, but his status as Warden Commander put his limited authority into question, and could not deny the will of the greater majority of nobles. Though Fergus' status as a teyrn could change a vote, he could not risk creating further animosity, or at least that's what Aldanon's notes said. Not that any of it mattered now, Ferelden and Orlais will be locked in war over his death. Even if Anora could be saved, they would still have to contend with the Aldanon's death, the blow to the country's morale would be severe.

"I'm really sorry," Fergus' voice came earnestly to Alistair's ears, "Truly, I am. Were there a way to prevent that war motion, I would have allowed it. But the nobility are only doing what they see as a defensive measure."  
"I already get that part, Fergus." Alistair responded brusquely, not turning his head. "But no amount of 'sorry' can change the fact tat we've suffered a bitter blow, and the fact that Ferelden will fall if we face the Orlesians."  
"You're forget that he was my brother as much as he was yours, Alistair." Fergus said firmly, clasping Alistair's shoulder to draw his attention, his eyes shone with both tears and distant hope. "I'm not willing to believe that Aldanon is in fact dead. I have a plan to stop the war." With this last word, Alistair's curiosity was piqued, for the several months of knowing Fergus, he did have an intelligence and wit that endured through the war.  
"But why would Eamon do this?!" Alistair asked with incredulity, unable to take his mind off Eamon's decision.  
"He fought in the war against Orlais, so he knows how capable of cruelty the Orlesians can be, this _is_ a war the Empress has declared." Fergus said thoughtfully, "But that's not the point, I have a plan that could save Aldanon."  
"What exactly does this plan involve?" Alistair asked, turning himself around to meet eyes with Fergus.  
"Only the nobles who agree with the bid for war are setting sail to Val Royeaux," he explained "the ones who refuse have been told to remain here. You've been forbidden to leave the city, but I'm clear to leave to Orlais."  
"But how does that help?" Alistair butted in, "What if they arrive in Val Royeaux before you?"  
"I was just getting to that part." Fergus said impatiently, "Firstly; we'll be using Ferelden's fastest ship, my ship, secondly; you will be stowed onto the ship in a barrel," Alistair's brow shot up in surprise so quickly his temples hurt, "And thirdly of course;" his tone suddenly became very charismatically cheeky, "we'll cheat!"


	23. The Coup Begins

**The Rising Odds**  
Charles was accustomed to having to deal with severe situations, but this was more than he had expected. The darkspawn had fully assembled outside the walls of the city and were poised to attack with all their hordes and siege weapons. The sound of the battle in the streets was ringing out to the battlements of the city walls, and he could not believe his ears when a messenger told him that Celene and Anora had declared war. What was made worse was d'Aubrac's order of pulling troops from the walls to the streets to crush the Fereldans, he was insistent that they would return to fight the darkspawn but that did _not _ease the pressure on Charles. It was not until Osecar had returned from his mission and Aldanon's wardens, Geoffrey, Elanea, Durin, Argeles, assembled did he know of Aldanon's fate. His face moved from grief to rage to defeated angst, for they had lost their champion, he was a legend, a source of inspiration  
"I can no more believe it than any one of us," he said in a low, bitter, half-mumble which came after a long while. "Whoever is behind this disaster is most likely insane and has no grasp of the darkspawn threat. With more of the soldiers leaving the battle by the Duke's orders we may have to call the chevaliers back to the city."  
"Won't the Fereldan soldiers attack us on principle for the mere fact that we are Orlesians?" Argeles queried  
"I highly doubt that," Osecar interjected hotly, "They may be enraged, but they'll know that we're Wardens because don't answer to d'Aubrac's orders. But the real question is what do we do now? Keep fighting?"  
"What about Aldanon?" Geoffrey posed, "He might be dead, but his companions might be able to help us draw a solution to resolving the fighting in the city and the encroaching darkspawn horde. We can't afford to fight both."  
"But we can't afford to focus on any single force either." Argeles reinforced, "Nor can we divide to face each."  
"We may have to divide our forces in order to both help Aldanon's companions and battle the darkspawn." Durin spoke out over Argeles. The Wardens had reached a silence of impasse; abandon duty or abandon their friends. Suddenly the horns sounded. The few soldiers who stayed edged nervously as the enemy came. The riotous shrieks and cries of the darkspawn charging filled the air, the sound of their armour shaking and feet hitting the ground as they ran created a terrifying cacophony of battle. Their mighty armour-clad war-ogres strode across the field, a hungry urge for destruction driving them on and the first ignited projectiles of their crude catapults and fire arrows from genlock archers soared over the walls and hit their many marks. The battle had begun.

Wynne, Maximus, Zevran and Oghren had managed to evade the main area of the battle, but not without felling a few soldiers who tried to kill them. Wynne was still struggling with her emotions, shocked and horrified by the war that has unfolded; Aldanon was dead, an unknown evil had caused all this chaos, Alistair would be pressurised into fighting Orlais and now Ferelden and Orlais were locked in war. She looked as if death was moments away, as if the spirit had abandoned hope and left her and soon she would succumb.  
"This is something that should not have happened. We came with the promise of peace, now it's in ruin."  
"Now is not the time to lose you to this chaos, Wynne." Zevran said firmly, gripping her shoulders "We need to find the real villains behind this plot and awaken Aldanon." Wynne became visibly startled, confused and unable to speak all at once, Maximus cocked is head in confusion as well, "I know it doesn't make sense, but I recognise the condition he's in, it's a type of demonic poison designed to shut the body down but keep the victim alive. His spirit is trapped in the Fade now, and it cannot return to it's body until the poison has left the system. He will die if his body is destroyed, and with all the blood he lost from the wound, he's much closer."  
"Then we need to get him off the Empress's chevaliers!" shouted Oghren. "But after we get him, then what?"  
"We will have to find the antidote for the poison," Wynne suddenly burst in deduction, her mind afire, "by either finding his real poisoners, or work out the antidote based on the ingredients of the poison."  
"Couldn't have said it better myself, dear Wynne," said Zevran, impressed. "We will have to move quickly. I saw her group moving northwards, towards the Palace, down Emperor's Avenue!" Wynne's once pallid skin was now flushed with action "Then our course is clear," she said "Zevran lead the way!" The elf darted of into the rain and the smoke, followed closely by Maximus, Wynne and then Oghren trundling behind.

They ran. The rain blinded their eyes; the smell of smoke nearly suffocated them, their mouths ran bitter and dry, the sound of battle deafened their ears, and open wounds and bruises chafed against them, but still they ran. For Aldanon's sake, and for Ferelden and Orlais. On occasion, Zevran would gesture them to stop for him to get his bearings, then resuming the chase. They must have been within two hundred yards of the Palace when suddenly he called the group to stop; the sound of footsteps and clinking armour was rushing towards them.  
"Draw your weapons, everybody!" he called out to them, and in response Wynne drew her staff, Oghren his great battleaxe and Maximus crouched down and bared his teeth. The newcomers were not who they expected.  
"Geoffrey, Argeles, Osecar, Elanea, Durin!" Wynne called out to the Wardens, surprise and relief in her voice.  
"Wynne," Geoffrey greeted her with a firm clasp of his gauntleted hand, "It is good we have found you. The darkspawn attack has started, the defenders are currently holding the walls but we need to find d'Aubrac and demand that he stops his mad mission to destroy the Fereldans and send his troops back to the walls. Charles also said we also need to alert the chevaliers out in the field to reinforce us." his face suddenly became drained of strength, "I fear that Aldanon is a lost cause, we can deal with his murderers once the darkspawn are dead."  
"I'm afraid not, Geoffrey." Zevran said staunchly, "We cannot give up on Aldanon because we suspect the ones responsible for what seems to be his death haven't actually killed him. He's alive." Geoffrey's eyes narrowed.  
"Are you suggesting that he was poisoned?" Geoffrey's eyes widened in shock.  
"That's right!" Oghren answered gruffly, "We're on a mission to find him and try to heal him and if we can, find the ones who did this to him. They seem to be more powerful than we're giving them credit for."  
"We were tasked with finding d'Aubrac," Osecar said, "but I suspect that joining forces will increase our chances of success; we find d'Aubrac then we find Aldanon. What do you say?" The other wardens needed no time to think. The decision was clear; Wardens and companions made their promise to fight alongside each other to see Aldanon saved, the darkspawn defeated, d'Aubrac's villainy ended, and the one behind this disaster unmasked.

**The Coup Begins**

_With the Grey Wardens, our chances of freeing Aldanon are much higher now_, Wynne thought as she jogged to keep up with the younger members of the now larger group. They had been hot on the trail of d'Aubrac' forces carrying Aldanon's body for only a few moments, but the trail was beginning to look bleak with the other smaller battles they risked by trying to follow the Duke. Within the minute, a large company of Orlesian chevaliers and soldiers appeared out of the haze. The stopped in their tracks and drew their swords. Oghren, Geoffrey, Durin, Max and Argeles met them head on while Zevran weaved in and out of the enemy sending daggers into their backs and Elanea hailed them with arrows. Wynne remained behind the battle casting healing spells on anyone who sustained a serious wound, but Osecar had disappeared. Just as a chevalier knocked Elanea to the ground and raised her sword to finish her off, a flaming elven sword pierced his breastplate from behind; Osecar. He was clad in a heavy hauberk of silverite chainmail and seemed to fight with grace rather than strength, as if his magic was fuelling his fighting ability. The soldiers went down very quickly, the chevaliers were something else; they were more disciplined, more adept in combat, and better equipped. Geoffrey and Argeles had fought and trained with chevaliers before, and so knew how to counter them with skill rather than strength. But Oghren was not immune to their prowess; just as he plunged his axe to finish one off, a sword came down on his helmed head and he plummeted to the ground. It took Geoffrey, Durin and Osecar to slay their leader, a fanatic of a man with unbelievable strength, it took both of Argeles' daggers in his neck to finish him off. As soon as they collected themselves, Wynne turned to Oghren, he was grunting heavily and nursing the bleeding blow to the head. She chanted quietly and waved her hands over the wound, but Oghren did not show signs of recovery immediately.  
"Sodding Stone, what hit me?" he coughed hoarsely as he felt the blow he'd received, and gritted his teeth in pain, Wynne applied the last of the healing magic to his head and started to bandage him up.  
"I just saw the Duke and the Empress pass northwards," Zev returned from the fog of the battle strewn city, "past the palace, they were on horseback with a whole company of chevaliers. The Marquis' body was being taken to the Cathedral, to be cremated, Maker rest his soul." he became uncharacteristically sombre, something that puzzled Wynne because she was used to his pointless flirtations during the war. Zevran' tone became enraged all of the sudden, "As for Aldanon, he's being dragged across the ground by a draft horse. We need to move quickly." in unified response, the whole group dashed through the streets.

It did not take them long to catch up with d'Aubrac and Celene, their patrol was marching single file northwards. Celene looked as though her world had fallen apart, she seemed almost dead with grief and that there was little left of her; everyone could see it was torturing her to want war against Ferelden, but she acknowledged that the people will want war in vengeance. On the other hand, d'Aubrac was enjoying the measure of control he had over the Empress, but maintained a neutral look that did not contain his satisfaction, and strode about the burning buildings as if they were his own. In the chevaliers, there was a small measure of distrust over their actions, but not enough to fuel them to stop the madness. But behind the column was a golden-tinted body dragging across the floor, his armour making a harsh creaking as it slid over the stone; Aldanon. Maximus growled in a deep and vicious voice and sprung out for d'Aubrac to rip him apart, it took both dwarves to restrain him and even then he would snap at their hands to be free.  
"By the Stone, why don't we just take them here and now, while they least suspect us!?" Oghren howled in rage, stepping forward and drawing his axe, shouting "Asschabs!!", but Elanea stuck an arrow through his boot, trapping him in place. He wrenched himself free only to be stopped in brief struggle by Durin.  
"Oghren, well need to observe what they do." Wynne urged the struggling dwarf, "If we attack, the Duke could kill Aldanon in a heartbeat. Aldanon is the priority here, if we can save him, we can save Orlais from d'Aubrac." The other companions nodded in agreement and remained hidden behind the corner, while Elanea and Zevran clambered up the wall of the opposite building. The column of chevaliers stopped, d'Aubrac turned to Celene.  
"I would like to know what you intend to accomplish, Claude." Celene pleaded to her husband, grief still choking her, "I declared war without so much as a true inclination to want it, Ferelden won't stand for this."  
"My wife, what I desire is in the best interests of the Orlesian Empire". He said in a worryingly calm voice, one that intrigued listeners and beckoned interest, "The Ferelden soldiers now lie either crushed or captured, those who have survived will not for long. We can soon turn our attention to the darkspawn." just as he finished, a helmeted chevalier marched onto the scene bringing a young woman slung over his shoulder, struggling and cursing violently to be free. Wynne, Zevran and Oghren recognised that angry voice; it was Anora.  
"Your Grace, I've successfully captured the Ferelden Queen, Anora." the chevalier cast her at the Duke's feet, she lifted her head and spat violently at him. In a rage, d'Aubrac grabbed her by the arm and threw her to the ground.  
"Good work, General Tremir," he said as he grasped the chevalier's hand "now execute her." Tremir stared at his lord in a surge of doubt and didn't draw his sword, and instead regarded Anora as she cowered on her back.  
"Your Grace, I think it best that we merely imprison her at one of the castles. Killing her would anger the Fereldans and we should give peace between the nations a chance." Tremir said in his deep, reasonable voice, it was evident he was not a man without honour. But d'Aubrac was not about to have his rule challenged.  
"I _order _you to slay her!!" he seethed, he drew his sword and hovered it over her. "Or I will kill her myself." Wynne stared at the Duke in horror, why wasn't the Empress acting? Zevran and Oghren exchanged mildly pleased looks, of all Aldanon's companions they were the ones who liked Anora the least. Tremir took over.  
"Allow me to take her to be executed formally at the castle, my lord." he persuaded d'Aubrac.  
"Very well," d'Aubrac concluded, regarding Anora distastefully, "Take her to be executed, but if I find her alive, I will have you exterminated alongside her as a traitor to Orlais." though his helmet covered his face, everyone could see from his stiffened posture that the Duke's threat enraged him. He turned away from d'Aubrac, dragging a Anora with him, who had already given up the fight. Celene, who had remained motionless throughout that encounter come to life. She looked as though she had woken up from one nightmare and awoke in a new one.  
"Claude, you have what you want, the Fereldans now lie imprisoned or killed," she said firmly with a hint of grief, "but what if Aldanon's killers still lurk in the city, we need to stop them as soon as the darkspawn siege is lifted. We cannot afford to fight a war on three fronts." d'Aubrac gave her a questioning, superior look, pacing around her. Correct to their suspicions, her guardians drew their weapons slowly and cautiously. The urge to spring into action was becoming too much for Wynne, Oghren and Geoffrey, but sense dictated them to remain where they were. They would wait until Celene and d'Aubrac were on the move again and try to get d'Aubrac away from Aldanon and hopefully gain Celene's support, or perhaps their inaction spelled further trouble.  
"We'll wait a moment for reinforcements to join us in battle against the darkspawn – ah! Here they come." within the moment, the sound of clinking armour and men on the march emerged from the haze of smoke and rain. "Celene, chevaliers, it's time you were all introduced to your Lord's executive forces." he strode out to the source of the marching, ahead of the Empress and her guard, his proud smile smeared across his face. "Perhaps they are not the kind you're used to, but they are certainly game for battle." at his word, a company of twenty red steel-clad anderfel warriors emerged from the fog. Their great weapons, greatwords, mattocks, axes, mauls, were drawn and their lust for battle was mounting in their posture and look. Ahead of them was a giant, lupine brute of a man with a great battleaxe. The empress looked about in panic to find more of the brutes blocking the other streets. It was pure chance that Elanea had alerted the others on the ground to take cover in the alleys.  
"I think I can see what your intentions are, Claude." Celene said with a renewed strength and realisation of the crisis "And I assure you it ends here. I will not submit my rule to you, and I will see you hanged for what you've allowed the city to come to. You killed Aldanon, didn't you?! You could not master your grievances of the failed Orlesian Occupation! My chevaliers will end your attempt at power!" she raged in accusation, a hint of realisation as she addressed Aldanon's death. But d'Aubrac was remained unmoved and distant from her rage.  
"I happen to have ways of making Emperors out of Dukes, by word or force. And I have more at my disposal than hirelings" he said coldly, "Kill her guards!! But leave her alive!" he roared out to Aundar and the mercenaries. At his response, a company of his chevaliers bearing his seal galloped into view. With the combined might of charging horsemen and enraged anderfels, the Empress' men stood no chance. They were knocked down by the charging lances and cut up by anderfel axes. This treachery was too much to simply watch.  
"NOW! CHARGE!" Oghren roared out and sprung from hiding, his great battleaxe drawn and yelling in his berserker rage. Durin joined in, roaring at the top of his gravelly voice, as did Argeles, Maximus and eventually Geoffrey. Wynne and Osecar remained behind but drew their staffs and the two elven rogues seemed to have vanished into the shadows. Oghren's charging party had the advantage of surprise, in less than a few seconds the first of the mercenaries were either slain or driven back, and d'Aubrac's chevaliers' horses were spooked into flighty escape, rearing and whinnying as they went. Several riders were shot down by Elanea's marksman talents and taken by surprise by Zevran. The two elves exchanged amused glances which showed admiration for each other's abilities. This was a welcome opportunity for Celene, as soon as their attention was divided she sped across the street as fast as her dress would allow her. But she had not escaped d'Aubrac's notice, just as he succeeded in pinning Geoffrey to the ground, he gestured his chevaliers to give pursuit. To his left he caught and mounted a stray horse and rode off to join his men. Knowing the battle was lost, Aundar fled from his duel with Oghren and charged off with a handful of his men, taking Aldanon's body as he ran. The remaining mercenaries were eventually cut down. The battle did not last long due to the number and the wrath of Aldanon's valiant friends. Wynne moved about the exhausted group incanting her spirit healer spell and the elves searched the bodies for valuable equipment, either to sell or to use. There were also quite a few riderless horses.

"That bleeding, thunder-humping, nug-arse-kissing swine!" Oghren blurted out in pain and anger as Wynne hastily patched up his bandaged head, and now his left bicep notched slightly by Aundar's axe.  
"We will have to move quickly," Argeles said to the others, "But now the Empress has been taken, do we leave Aldanon, who may be dead, or do we give pursuit, save Celene and kill d'Aubrac?" he asked rhetorically.  
"We already know the answer to that question, Argeles." Zev said with unwavering loyalty in his voice, "Leaving Aldanon is out of the question, we don't even know where the Empress will be taken to."  
"I know where she's going," Geoffrey's voice came forth evenly, "She'll have been taken to d'Aubrac's castle; Imperial Keep, north of the city along the Imperial Highway. But I agree with Zevran, we cannot leave Aldanon at the mercies of the mercenaries. But where did they go?" in answer to his question, Elanea jumped from a tall house to the middle of the encircled group. Beads of sweat were trickling down her from running.  
"I managed to find the mercenaries," she said breathlessly, "They're heading towards a series of abandoned warehouses, and Aldanon is with them." at her word, Osecar's head sprung up and joined in.  
"Of course!" he burst excitedly, "That's it! The source of the foul magic I detected earlier must have been their base!" The others gave him quizzical looks of confusion, "When we fought those mercenaries, there was a weak sense of dark magic around them, the same as the one at a warehouse that I passed when I found Aldanon."  
"So that's our destination, then? That's where our enemy lies" Wynne asked the two elves who nodded knowingly, "Then we must hurry, time is of the essence. Let us take the battle to them!"


	24. The Raising

**The Raising**

From the magic wisp from within Marjolaine's lair, Leliana was able to see the events of that dark night. Upon the walls of the city, Warden-Commander Charles strode across the ramparts where bastions of soldiers battled the darkspawn. The man was showing signs of fatigue and evidence of growing doubt over the now staggeringly dire situation, but duty was his only sustenance. Arrows from both sides where hailing down and over the walls, and ignited projectiles from catapults and darkspawn emissaries had set the east side of the city ablaze. Where it not for the ballista bolts from the city's fleet soared over the walls to meet the darkspawn, the battle may have been lost all too soon, and while they were blind shots, their marks were largely successful, striking down many a foe and if lucky, siege weapons. New groups of soldiers were joining the fray, but not enough to turn the tide, and with more men dying every minute, there was no sign of victory. The ogres bore the siege towers up to the walls, Charles ordered the ballistae to reposition to take out the tops of the siege towers, but the sheer masses of hurlocks made that task for the soldiers on the walls nigh impossible, their sheer numbers and unbridled ferocity was a sort the soldiers of Val Royeaux had never seen. Charles would convene to those points where the hurlocks attacked, where his veteran skills and abilities were most needed. Soon the ballistae were in place and with a single shot to each tower, they would be reduced to matchwood, and the hurlocks to corpses. Leliana rejoiced at their victories, but faltered for fear when she saw the ogre ram. True to it's name, armoured ogres surrounded it and regular ogre pulled it across. The ram's steel head was fashioned in the likeness of the last Archdemon, and to the magic of the darkspawn emissaries, the steel turned red hot and burned. It crawled on towards the gate.

+++++++++++

In the western parts of the city, Aundar Jürgen's mercenaries, anderfels and elves, where storming through the city, assaulting the Empress's chevaliers and harrowing a group of Ferelden knights who survived the battle, led by Ser Perth. Soldiers fell in their wake, and all through the city, they plundered and looted at will, any who tried to stop them were slain. Though a valiant few had succeeded in slaying a few of them, they continued to wreak havoc in the city. The battles against the Empress's soldiers and knights were long, but the greater proportion of victories belonged to Marjolaine. Without the Royal Family to take command, the soldiers were left divided and leaderless, they would eventually be slain. The mercenaries' unrestrained fury knew no bounds, buildings were raised as often as riches were plundered, and innocent lives fell before their madness. This was their _payment_, the destruction and looting of Val Royeaux. Even the Grand Cathedral was not safe, with the aid of d'Aubrac's men, they broke down the gates, killed the templars and kidnapped the Divine Cleric and stole her aboard a horse. All this pain and devastation was an excruciating experience to watch.

+++++++++++

The wisp vanished, and Marjolaine stepped forth to the restrained Leliana, holding her struggling, squealing pet nug whom she found in her backpack, Schmooples, smiling contentedly and dangling the hapless nug from his leg while her adversary raged and pulled all her muscles to lash out at her deranged nemesis and rip her apart.  
"I look forward to you seeing the finished product of my victory." she said slowly in Leliana's ears.  
"You claim to have achieved victory, Marjolaine, but Orlais will not stand for this transgression." she seethed in a broken mix of grief and rage, tears streaking down her "You've divided Orlais' armies, allowed the darkspawn to attack and kidnapped Empress Celene. You have destroyed the very city you cherished, and for what!?"

"_For revenge!_!" Marjolaine turned and shouted, throwing Schmooples to the ground, causing Leliana to gasp in shock, she walked towards her victim "All that you've seen; Aldanon's death, the declaration of war against the dog-country Ferelden, the destruction of the city you loved; it was intended to strike at you! All that has happened has happened because I want you to see it. I wouldn't waste my revenge and simply kill you! I want you to witness the end of everything you hold dear, and watch as I rise from the dirt and the darkness to claim the glory ascending to Empress of Orlais. With me at the top and my men to keep order, I will raise the Orlesian Empire to new heights of glory and do what my father, Meghren, failed to achieve; I will conquer Ferelden and kill every living thing in that land, leaving it open for my Empire to expand. Everything that has come to pass has done so by my will. And you, you will be there to see it all, this is my revenge: your suffering." at first, Leliana simply stared open-mouthed at her. Her face then contorted into what seemed to be a pure combination of grief, disgust, rage and pain; each emotion struggled to achieve mastery of her as she breathed heavily to expel emotion. In a brief, abrupt moment, she screamed. She screamed like all around her had never seen. She screamed out to the Maker in grief for Aldanon's death, Val Royeaux's burning, and Ferelden's end. She screamed out in rage and disgust against Marjolaine's lust for dominion, her growing insanity, and all the death her machination's had wrought. When all her breath was spent she allowed her body to collapse to the floor in exhaustion. She breathed heavily and deeply in pained sobs, tears streaking down her soft cheeks, it was as though Marjolaine had sucked the very life from her, all colour was fading and her voice was weakened.

"Then kill me." she said, her voice and face had turned to stone; unmoving and cold. "Kill me and end it."  
"So you yield." Marjolaine said mockingly, chuckling chokingly. "This is what I had hoped you would say in the end. I anticipated this, ever since you fell in love, you've been more feeble than a mouse. Mercy would dictate that I kill you, but I won't. Now bear witness to my next act." she snapped her fingers. For a moment, nothing happened, but a strange humming of magic emanated from a hole in the floor. Marjolaine slipped one of her poisoned daggers over Leliana's arm, and her body was laid limp. The smith opened the restraints and allowed Marjolaine to drag her prisoner to the the flooring that overlooked the hole, which was now glowing with magic and the sounds of chanting were seeping from it like bile. A red light burst from the whole, and Leliana shut her eyes tightly. A minute passed in silence. A shuffling sound emerged which multiplied and became accompanied by gargled groaning and deep drawling. A decayed hand emerged from the hole. The hand lead a decomposed body. More walking corpses emerged from the hole, followed by groups of skeletons. They shambled out of the hole, a great reek rose wherever they trod, and their notched teeth were bared for all to see. Leliana gasped and uttered incoherently and attempted to break free, but Marjolaine strapped her to the restraining device.

"You are a monster, Marjolaine." Leliana said bitterly, her face contorted in anger. But Marjolaine ignored her.  
"They are my newest soldiers," she said vaingloriously, "I will be unstoppable with these undead at my side."  
she turned to her and drew her daggers and Leliana heard the sound of mechanical clanking behind her..  
"What amazes me after all this time, Marjolaine, is that you're still bone-dead stupid," Leliana growled her captor down, and tensed up in anger. "I will be strong and withstand this destruction." Marjolaine merely drew closer.  
"But how much can you endure?" she said quietly as she slipped her dagger into Leliana's arm and the restraints stretched their hostage's limbs across.


	25. The Stowaway

**The Stowaway**

"You can't honestly think I'm going to be stowed away inside a barrel, Fergus. And I think my bum's started itching" Alistair complained as he squeezed himself into the barrel in little other than than a set of silverite chainmail armour, his grey warden armour safely stored in a crate. The barrel itself was two and a half feet in diameter, and it took all of Alistair's upper body strength to wedge himself in, with a little help from Fergus. The rains had cleared and it was midnight, but every soul in Denerim who answered to Arl Eamon's call to war was working tirelessly under the moonlight. By Fergus' ship, the voyage could take six hours. There was little time. The signal message arrived from Val Royeaux to Denerim within an hour, but Eamon's order to begin a forced sail needed more time to prepare; roughly two hours. The fleet was almost ready to set sail and the soldiers were boarding. Fergus' ship needed the least time to prepare, but to stall the other ships, that was the problem.  
"You said you were willing to help Aldanon if he was alive." Fergus explained to him adamantly as placed the barrel lid over him, blocking his vision completely. "This is the best way you can get out without being stopped."  
"Right, yeah. Um, couldn't we just take away the base and I creep silently across the pier onto the ship?" his muffled voice echoed from inside the barrel. Fergus chuckled and opened the lid and spoke into the barrel.  
"Because the nobles are familiar with your usual glibness and quirks. They would recognise it was you. Now allow me to explain the plan." before he could take the lid off, Alistair's head popped up, balancing it on his head  
"I will explain to Eamon and the other nobles in the city setting ships out to sea that I need to make a fast return to Highever with my soldiers. But to ensure the other nobles are distracted; that's where you come in."

+++++++++++

"Trapped in a barrel! As in me! As in 'OW!'!" a barrel floated across the bay as he voice echoed out from within across the quiet docks. The calls were enough to draw the attention of a handful of guards and Arl Wulff. The man was usually quick to anger, especially late at night, but this curious sight drew his attention.  
"What's going on?!" he addressed the guards roughly and then turned to the barrel. "Is there someone in there?"  
"Please help me! Get me out!" Alistair called out, "I got stuck in a barrel and when I tried to get out I fell over."  
"Well, why did you put yourself inside?!" Wulff called out incredulously and with exasperation to the barrel.  
"I don't know, it was just a bet. I said I could fit inside a barrel but I got stuck." he replied from within the barrel.  
"You're not supposed to get yourself trapped in barrels, young man! You're an Arl and a Grey Warden!" he huffed grumpily, fearing what the nobility could become with more Alistair antics in the future. "Just how old are you?"  
"Stop yelling at me, and help me out before the current takes me away." Alistair called out to Wulff, and in response the barrel started floating out towards the sea. Arl Wulff considered his next action with a hint of hesitation, he was ordered to oversee the ships be put out to sea; but with the rough currents of the Amaranthine Ocean, the barrel could be lost. He also considered that Alistair would still be upset about Aldanon's death.  
"Send a few men out in a longboat before the barrel gets out to sea! Alert Eamon!" he ordered to the other men who bustled into action while Wulff strode off calling out in alarm. From inside the barrel, Alistair privately smiled but quickly wince then nursed the crick in his back and numb bottom. From a tiny hole in the barrel, Alistair was able to get a view of men hurrying about to get the longboat into the bay. He could see a hint of red in the star illuminated docks; Eamon had arrived. As the barrel started to float more outwards, a whole crowd of other nobles arrived. Wulff explained the situation to Eamon who groaned in stressed irritation and disapproval.  
"I don't know what the lad hopes to achieve by behaving so foolishly," he said heavily, "I hope he can explain himself when we catch him. Send more boats after him, just in case." To Eamon's word, more soldiers entered the longboats. The sight of soldiers on a bizarre rescue mission was starting to draw crowds, even in the dead of night; even some of the Landsmeet nobles who were busying themselves to prepare the ships were becoming drawn to the odd event. This was the diversion Fergus wanted. After five minutes, it seemed the barrel was going to go out to sea, when Fergus ship unexpectedly came into view, what was strange wasn't the fact that it was leaving, but the fact one of it's ropes were loose. Just as a boat full of soldiers was getting close enough to pull the barrel out of the water, a ballista shot sounded from the departing ship and at the same time the barrel to ricochet out from the waves with a rope for a lead towards Fergus' ship. Alistair, who was resisting the urge to vomit, he was so seasick, and wet from seawater seeping into the barrel from his viewing hole, now had to endure flying through the air. The iron sheet at the bottom of the barrel held a strong rope that could snap at any second. Meanwhile Fergus, who was aboard the departing ship, _Westward Warden_,waited carefully for the barrel to project towards him, drew his word, and with a powerful strike the rope severed as the barrel landed roughly on deck. Fergus opened the barrel lid and Alistair half fell out and half clawed angrily out to take down Fergus only to be restrained by his partner-in-crime and his men before collapsing from exhaustion.

+++++++++++

On the docks, Eamon and the nobles stared in wondered as the barrel leapt from the waves unto the _Westward Warden's_ deck. He was used to Alistair doing extraordinarily odd things when he was a boy, but he'd thought that years among the templars in teh chantry would have lessened that, but then again he'd also remember just how naughty Fergus was as a young boy whenever the Cousland family visited Redcliffe castle.  
"That has got to be Fergus' most cunning plan since he let the mabari hounds out of their pen to steal Isolde's good dress." Eamon mumbled to himself, and the other nobles looked about, half impressed by this surge of imagination from the young nobles and frustration at their rash decision.  
"I only did what I thought was the intelligent thing to do." Wulff growled indignantly at the other nobles witnessing the event, but Eamon gestured him to calm down. And instead set about to preparing the fleet, knowing that though it would take longer, the intentions were to find and possibly save Aldanon and stop Orlais invading. He also trusted that Alistair's actions were also directed towards the greater good

+++++++++++

As soon as Alistair go himself into a set of clean clothes, and a chance to throw up, he confronted Fergus.  
"That 'escape plan' was more like an elaborate plot to kill me, couldn't you just stow me aboard the traditional way?!" he shouted at Fergus with an annoyed, relieved and winded tone,"You know, just put the barrel containing me onto the ship and me being very quiet?" Fergus rolled his eyes at Alistair's frightened tirade.  
"Your being stuck in the barrel was just a diversionary method to draw the nobles' attention." Fergus explained sincerely as he seated Alistair in the main chair of his cabin, his tone serious and matter of factly. "While Eamon's men were trying to take you out of the bay, several of my men were stationed at the docks where ships that would set sail would leave. There, they disabled the rudder chains of the ships, meaning they would not be able to set sail and Eamon will need to give time to repair the ships. With the fleet grounded, we can get to Val Royeaux by morning, try to find Aldanon and try to uncover the situation in Val Royeaux."  
"Why couldn't you have just told me about that before I gave myself a free pain in the back?" Alistair groaned, but then allowed his mind to focus on the present, "At least we will be able to find Aldanon, if he's still alive."  
"He is, Alistair." Fergus said in a firm and reassuring voice, gripping his friend's shoulder, "For almost a whole year, I endured the fear that Aldanon may indeed have been dead, during the Blight. I never imagined he would survive, but he did. I have faith that he has survived this disaster."


	26. Disaster

**Another Entrance**

The anderfel warriors carrying Aldanon's body were still being tracked. Elanea and Zevran ran and leapt across the rooftops, watching their movement, while Osecar led the group on the ground. Behind him was Geoffrey, Wynne, Durin, Argeles, and covering the rear was Oghren. As Osecar said, the anderfel soldiers were indeed heading back towards the back alleys, and they were moving at an increased speed despite their heavy and delicate cargo. Like a cat after a valuable prize, Zevran dropped noiselessly onto the ground, spying the anderfels with deductive eyes through the darkness. It was easier to follow them through the filthy alleyways of the slums and the warehouses than in the paved roads of the main city. Eventually, the two mercenaries bearing Aldanon stopped before a rotting wooden door, giving time for the rest of the group to catch up with them as quickly as possible. Elanea and Zevran reached the door first, but remained in the shadows to observe their actions and wait for the others, knowing that trying to attack them this close to the enemy would alert the entire complex. By the time the ground group had caught up, the mercenaries had disappeared through the doorway. Oghren caught up.

"Well, what are we waiting for?!" he shouted out to the others, "Lets burst through those doors, destroy those bleedin' blighters, get Aldanon out of there and defeat the darkspawn! Here we come!" before he could charge off and break the doors down with his axe, Durin grabbed his shoulder and pinned his foot on Oghren's.  
"Oggers, this mission isn't going to be as simple as that. They could kill him any moment, that they kept his spirit intact and thus alive is beyond me. As much as we may not like it, we need to employ a craftier plan."  
"Couldn't have said it better myself, my black-clad friend." Zevran complimented, out of partiality to furtive plans. "We may need to scout the entire building for a way in which we could penetrate it and launch an attack."  
"I agree with Zevran," Osecar joined in, his logical mind at hand, "Optimally, if we could take them by surprise or get to Aldanon before they do anything to him, we could stand a chance of curing him." Before the others could come to agreement, a harsh scream pierced the still night. By the Maker, how they jumped. Wynne nearly had a small heart attack, Geoffrey, Zevran and Argeles turned about in fear, both dwarves drew their axes, Osecar dived between the warriors, and Elanea let out a slight cry. Once it was believed the sound had died away and they pulled themselves together, they grouped together with that fell scream still piercing their ears.  
"What in the name of the Maker was that?!" Wynne cryed in a fearful voice that detracted from her usual calm.  
"It sounded like a...a woman's scream. In which case, whoever was behind Aldanon's poisoning is a greater threat than we realized if they're going out of their way to torture innocents." Osecar deduced to himself as he dusted his robes off. "If there are any other people being held in that terrible place, we must free them." Behind him a gurgling groan came from behind him. Trudging out of the alleyways around them were several shadowy shapes with distinctly foul odours of rotting flesh but with humanoid features. Undead.

+++++++++++

In an instant, Osecar drew his staff, incanted loudly, and to his words his allies' weapons were coated in flame. Recognising this to be their moment to attack, the walking corpses struck out. Osecar raised his staff and unleashed a fireball at one of the undead groups, reducing them to burnt shells. But the others pressed the attack. Durin and Elanea took charge of one of the hordes, Geoffrey and Zevran assaulted other, leaving Argeles and Oghren to whittle down the others and Wynne in the middle casting her healing spells. Osecar's burning blades were a welcome addition to the battle, with them the warriors were able to finish them more quickly, and if one sustained injury, Wynne would not be far away. But the ferocity and number of the undead was overpowering, and Zevran found himself isolated from Geoffrey and a powerful corpse struck him down and caught him in it's clawed grip. Before it completely break his neck, it's grip loosened and it dropped to the ground, Zevran got up to find one of Elanea's arrows in it's neck. The brutality of the undead was not a full match for the skill and ability of Aldanon's companions, and were quickly defeated. Wynne analysed the situation of the group.  
"We seemed to have sustained little injury other than scratches and bruises," she announced to the group, but turned to Zevran, who lay quietly on his back breathing lightly. "But Zevran has sustained scratches to his neck as well as strangling, he may even have undead poisoning in his blood. It's nothing I can't heal."  
"It may also endanger our time trying to heal him, the enemy could launch an ambush." Geoffrey said grimly. "Perhaps if we were to split up, one group could locate a way into the warehouse, the other stayed behind while Zevran recuperates." This was their best solution; Durin, Oghren, Osecar and Elanea volunteered to locate a way into the lair of the enemy. They searched around the perimeter of the warehouse, but nothing was turned up.  
"Look over here! There's a hole!" Elanea called out.

++++++++++++

Elanea had found a hole in the ground that led to a series of caves. She could tell it was the source of the undead because of Osecar's tests, another group of undead, and her hunting instinct. She had left a trail of arrows for Zevran to find her, to lead him to the cave. The tunnel wend down deep at first, but it started shifting into a more horizontal level. Osecar held his ignited sword out ahead of him, illuminating the path, but eventually Elanea insisted that they travelled without light. Both dwarves were remarkably sombre in this darkness, though they had been since d'Aubrac's coup, being this close to dark arts and an unknown enemy kept them even more subdued. In time, they came to the exit of the cave. The sight that awaited them was disturbing. It led to a much larger cave which must have been beneath the building, lit by torchlight and forges, racks of weapons lined along the walls of the cave. Magical humming rung through the cave, emanating from what seemed to be racks and racks of corpses, surrounded by black-robed, chanting mages. The advance group stepped back in horror, but they needed to see whatever was happening. A blast of red magic blinded their eyes, and when it resided, the corpses moved. They shifted off their racks and onto the ground, baleful eyes boring the world around them. The corpses walked. Loud footsteps came down the stairs, the two anderfels carrying Aldanon's body came down and lifting him onto the rack. Elanea was two steps ahead of Marjolaine's forces. Just as Aldanon was laid down on the rack to await the malificarum, two arrows tore through the air and annihilated the first two mages. Osecar, who had been preparing for a few seconds, raised a towering inferno and it rasped at the undead, in their confusion they collapsed. Unrelenting, Osecar barraged them until they were reduced to ash or picked off by Elanea's arrows. The two other malificarum caught in the flames, one fell from the heat; the other escaped, but only to be cut to pieces by Durin and Oghren.

+++++++++++

Wynne, Geoffrey, Zevran, Argeles and Maximus came behind them. The loyal mabari bounded across the cave onto Aldanon, and broke into fevered whining, but instinctively did not lick his face. The look on Wynne's face upon seeing Aldanon was one of grief, relief and self-reproach, but firm words from Zevran affirmed her to calm down. After relating what they saw to Geoffrey, the warden-lieutenant posted himself and the warriors, while Elanea and Zevran slipped into the shadows. Osecar and Wynne started examining his body.  
"Based on what my tests seem to be showing," Wynne conferred with her old apprentice, "Aldanon's poison was a demonic poison, and must be countered using natural ingredients, the best ingredients would be the ones naturally used as poisons found in nature." they searched their packets for the appropriate ingredients.  
"It seems we have all the appropriate ones," Osecar said studiously, "But the poison must have been enhanced through other means, more potent ingredients. Perhaps Zevran and Elanea can turn something up."

**Disaster**

"Would you kill me?" these words had an unusual effect on Marjolaine, it wasn't certain whether they were pleasing or undramatic. She almost didn't believe it, it sounded so unusual to surrender so quickly. But when she turned around and asked Leliana to repeat those words, the nastiest grin creased across her face.  
"Would you kill me," Leliana repeated stonily and bitterly, gazing at her enemy without remorse "if it meant that you were satisfied and that Val Royeaux would no longer suffer by your destruction, would you kill me?"  
"I haven't given in to your demands to die, so why should I do so now?" Marjolaine asked in her slow toxic way.  
"You've hunted me down across two nations," she cursed in a crushed, broken voice "you've murdered the only man I've ever been close to loving, and you've destroyed hundreds of innocent lives in the city just to get at me!"  
"And you want me to end it all by simply killing you?" Marjolaine turned to her. "You believe that I will simply end my vengeance on you by killing you here when I decided that our suffering would be so? You are wrong."  
"_I am suffering!!!_" she shrieked out hysterically, pulling on the chains on each word. "All this has happened because you want me to suffer, I am suffering, and the people in the city are suffering, and I want it all to end!!" her voice broke and sobs took over her again, threatening to choke her. She had endured a full hour of torture from Marjolaine and her minions from spell, sword and machine. She was stretched on the rack, had daggers plunged into her, hexing spells claw into her, and was healed only to suffer the same punishments again just for Marjolaine's contentment. But that wasn't the worst part; she had gone to great lengths to destroy the world around her to harm her. It needed to end. It needed to end before she harmed more Orlais and Ferelden and everything good about Orlais was destroyed.  
"Are you willing to endure a slow, painful death in the knowledge the city's destruction ends?" her foe asked.  
"I am." she said through the sobs and heavy breathing. Marjolaine turned into the shadows and smiled privately. This was not what she had hoped for, but it seemed as if the last remnant of mercy was having it's final say in her conscience. Leliana's voice came through to her, "I'm willing to sacrifice myself knowing that it will end there."  
"Very well." Marjolaine turned to her, eyeing her with look akin to sizing up an animal for laughter, "Since I cannot have one of my pleasures without loosing another, I will deal with you as I see fit. I will grant that wish. Gather the rest of our forces, tell them that we have achieved victory." the mercenary she addressed took out a brass horn, François drew his staff and applied it to the horn. It's great blast echoed through the ruined building.

From within François chamber, Zevran was able to find the ingredients based on Osecar's deduction; three lifestones, a fire crystal, three distillation agents, two concentrator agents, a corrupter agent, five toxin extracts and five deathroots. This was no trivial poison. While searching for these components, Zevran and Elanea saw a disturbing number of elves forced to work in slave labour, which was no short source of disgust to both of them. Elanea had to fight the urge to liberate them once and for all, remembering Aldanon's plight before the sound of screaming drew her towards the source of the noise, Zevran was right behind her. She spotted the two women.  
"Zev, someone's up there!" she whispered, "Looks like a girl and a much older woman. Zevran? Zevran!"  
"Well shoot me in the back and take me for an urchin!" he exclaimed in a rapt yet terrified voice, "It's Leliana!"  
"Who?!" Elanea shot back at him, but before she could get answers he was already gone. A few minutes later, he had returned with Wynne and Oghren. Both were just as shocked as he'd expected them to be.  
"Maker, Andraste, and all things holy before us!" she exclaimed, "Leliana! We have to do something at once!"  
"Do what?" the hard-headed dwarf butted in, "As much as I may be glad to see her again, isn't Al the priority?"  
"He is, but he would be heartbroken if he learned that Leliana was here but couldn't be saved because of us."  
"It's true, Oggers, before this night all he could think about was her."Zevran said in a considering voice. The rest of Aldanon's old group thought quietly for a moment and Elanea remained focused on them. "I think the obvious point is this; Osecar and Wynne will prepare the antidote and will join the battle eventually, I will take the antidote to him to him and revive him, the warriors will try to fight back any and every foe that gets in their way, and Elanea you have to try and free Leliana." Elanea opened her mouth to speak, but Zevran held up his arm and in an insistent manner, "Please, there is no time for questions, Leliana is an archer like you, with both of them at our side we can stand a very good chance." she nodded understandably, her closeness to the wily ex-assassin had given her a measure of trust towards her peers. They had a plan, they needed to enact it.

The horn had mustered all of Marjolaine's barbarous minions, contentment brazen across their faces and actions, now they had an air of cruel anticipation of what their mistress might do next. Shambling from the other tunnels, the undead had assembled in the darker reaches of the warehouse. The elven slaves that were taken from the Alienage were assembled in the corner and guarded by the two mages and a few mercenaries, their numbers whittled down, but miraculously the mother and her child were still alive. Aundar Jürgen, François, Benoit and Iurups had assembled as her first witnesses; they all seemed just as satisfied at their mistress for they knew that soon they would revel in their mistress's victory. Marjolaine had assembled on a table a series of cruel weapons of torture and battle, and an assortment of poisoned, barbed, and enchanted arrows. Of Leliana there was nothing left; just a tormented, broken, deceased young woman with nothing left in life other than death and hateful anger towards her enemy which continued to tear her apart.  
"My warriors, rogues, mages, and servants," she addressed her mustered army, "Tonight is the night you have all suffered and waited for; the reason for my vengeance lies tied to this rack. Ever since she proclaimed to hunt me down from Ferelden to Orlais, I have went to great depths to protect myself from her, even if it meant destroying the beloved Hero of Ferelden." this was met by cheers and victorious displays of volume, "Starting with her death, we take our place in the Orlesian Empire and emerge from this place. I will join with Duke Claude d'Aubrac as his empress once Celene has been removed. Remove him from control and that will leave me in mastery of the Orlesian Empire!" war cries and brandished weapons filled the air, "We will expand our Empire by crushing Ferelden beneath the mailed fist that is Orlais and purge the land of it's people, making way for us!!" riotous cheers lifted the ceiling of that place. "You will all be rewarded, when at last I am given my dues and revenge deliciously served. First, your new Empress exacts her revenge." she took up her bow and selected a... poisoned arrow. She pulled on the bow and aimed to fire. Suddenly the floorboards gave way. Osecar's stonefist spell hit it's target. Her arrow had lost her mark and she was hanging by her fingers.

Beneath her chaos unfolded; Geoffrey had come up from behind a pillar and his wide arcs and stabs had completely felled one of her men and sought another. Argeles was a whirling dervish of cutting blades that carved a path through the undead. The dwarves fought in competition, Oghren with his great swipes and Durin with his heavy shield bashes and keen axe strikes. Elanea had ascended one of the beams and with fiery precision shot every foe close to her or threatened to overwhelm her allies. The two mages worked in turn to heal allies and strike enemies, and returning to the mortar and pestle to grind the ingredients, extract their essences and combine them in the correct way. Zevran remained close to the mages, partly in defence and partly to be able to run to Aldanon when the potion was ready. To Leliana, the action was neither a relief nor a discomfort. She had lost everything to Marjolaine, but she was glad that outside forces could afflict a measure of damage on her. Aundar engaged Geoffrey in battle, and Geoffrey was able to cut through his armour, but the anderfel's strength was unprepared for and the warden's shield was shattered. Benoit took up his hammer and breasted the dwarf back but the dwarf resisted the smith, and Iurups snuck behind Argeles, attempted to back-stab him but Argeles turned and riposted his dagger and sword strikes. After a few minutes, the warrior's efforts were exhausting them and they were forced into a corner. To protect themselves, Osecar had ignited a spill of grease to burn any foe who tried to attack. Wynne had finished the potion. Zevran had pinned Iurups to a beam, and heeded Osecar's signal and ran to receive the potion; a fluid, glowing blue liquid. Osecar dispelled the fire and called out.  
"Fall back! Fall back to the cave!!" The warriors heeded his amplified voice, unified to form a line and retreated.

Zevran had nearly reached the cave where Aldanon lay. Suddenly he slipped. Grease. He caught the vial before it fell. But before he could lift his arm, a foot came down on him. François had him pinned, he raised his staff to ignite the grease. All of the sudden he was sprawling on the ground trying to take grease out of his eyes. Zevran's trick had worked, he got back onto his feet, now he needed to get to bring Aldanon back, who was just a few metres away. Just as he ran down the stairs, a hot blast knocked him over and the vial spiralled into the air. He must have shouted out in rage as it went into the air, because he was wearing Wade's drakeskin leathers and did not feel the heat. The vial was flying over to Aldanon, but the strength from the heat of the fireball had destroyed the vial, reduced it's contents to vapours over him. Before he could get up, a wave of ice trapped him. François had succeeded in springing the trap. Behind him, the rest of the attackers came up behind him but stopped in their tracks, they knew what this meant. That was their moment of complete compromise; behind them the mercenaries came holding them to crossbow and bow point.

"Well done, my mage." Marjolaine congratulated François, who accepted it with swelling arrogance. "I can always rely on you to be my hidden dagger." Leliana had screwed her face in an attempt to dispel a headache, but she had not noticed Wynne, Zevran and Oghren until they were brought up to the elevated floorboards.  
"Wynne! Oghren! Zevran! Oh Maker have mercy!" her shocked and pained expression as she called to them pushed Wynne to tears, even Oghren's face softened to absurd proportions. She returned to fighting her cries.  
"I take it that these individuals are friends, Leliana?" Marjolaine hissed to her victim. Leliana ignored her and focused on Wynne. "Then they will become part of my revenge; they will die before you and I reverse my agreement to kill you, you will live to see it all." Leliana's face transfixed on her in horror. She screamed in defiance and tried to lash out, and Aundar put his axe pommel to her stomach, winding her. Wynne darted out.  
"You leave her alone, you monstrous brute!!" she shouted at the giant, but he glowered and growled her down.  
"You will all die." Marjolaine announced to them. "You will join my army of walking corpses and -"  
"Mistress," François interrupted her tentatively, "The mages have been trying to work on the corpses, we haven't been able to draw any demons to raise them. It's as though the rip in the Veil has been mended." The captives looked about in confusion, the Veil must have been connected to the undead, but why was the rip sealed?  
"Then open it again! Don't fail me!" she snarled viciously at her mage, who bowed and retreated from sight. "Aundar, bring the old one before me." Aundar raised Wynne to her feet and propped her before Leliana. "Once the Veil is torn again, we will send them all to the caves to be worked on. And Aldanon, he will take his place as the champion of my armies when we summon a demon to inhabit his body and turn him into a Revenant!!" Leliana's horrified look chilled all around her except Marjolaine. She said nothing, but sank back into torpor. Dissatisfied, Marjolaine took her dagger and drew it towards Wynne's frail neck. Before the neck could be severed, loud groaning erupted from one of the caves, and everything stilled.


	27. The Fade

**The Fade**

Aldanon's eyes opened. At first he thought he received a blow to the head because his vision was blurry and all around him seemed shapeless, cold, and out of place. He wasn't in Val Royeaux. He recognised the shapeless landscape to be the Fade once again. He got up onto his feet and tried to clear his mind and work out where he was, but it was difficult to focus. His memories of that battle were becoming vaguer. He felt incomplete where he was, as if part of him was absent and wanted to rejoin his spirit, and there was a deathly feeling about him. But he thanked the Maker his arms and armour were still on him, in fact they seemed to be in good condition as opposed to broken and battered. He paced around trying to remember what happened, and tried to make sense of the situation. He finally deduced that his spirit left his now unconscious, if not dead body and is now trapped. He needed to somehow find a way out; perhaps a dreamer or a benign spirit could help.

Suddenly something came across the hill; a hunched, amorphous form of moving magma that radiated a scorching madness, the creature had sinister eyes and clawed hands; a Demon. Aldanon recognised it as a Rage Demon, spirits of pure wrath and fire. Though powerful in their own respect, they were deadly vulnerable to ice. Aldanon searched for his royal arms and found, to his shock, that Maric's sword was not on him, it must have been taken off his body as the spoils of his enemy's victory. Instead he drew his frost-enchanted sword Starfang and his Redcliffe shield. In an instant, another slithered over the hill, and then two more, three more, four, and then double that. He looked around and saw more of them, and to his rear to find just as many on all sides. There must have been twenty of them all around him. He was standing in the middle of a Fade gorge. He was surrounded. And trapped. The first one, the largest, laughed in a deep, rasping voice.  
"Soon, we will have possession of the Grey Warden, once his spirit is slain." it announced to its kind. Aldanon dropped into his defensive stance and awaited the enemy's action. Then, with a roar from the first, the demons advanced. The monsters dived in for the kill, slowly at first, but soon they became a fiery-red flowing torrent of blazing fire descending upon him like a river of lava. Their bright scorching forms nearly blinded him, and instinct took over. The first came down upon him, but had not anticipated Starfang's frosty bite. With a single fell bow, it bled flame and collapsed in a cooled pile crumbled lava. Three more met him, their clawed hands thrashing at his armour, and the heat of their forms created trickles of sweat down his skin. Some of them used their fire attacks but they were not enough to weaken him, yet. Aldanon had to conquer their blind rages with tactical skill. With a batter to one, and a shield pummel to another, he finished the knocked out ones quickly and efficiently. As they grew in number, Aldanon roared a fearsome cry that sent them recoiling in fear, giving Aldanon a chance to weaken their numbers. A few strikes from his sword finished demon after demon slowly but surely, his access to health poultices were a welcome gift. But larger ones came crashing past, their fiery forms more potent. He began to apply more stamina to each attack, and kept his shield up at every inch. The tougher ones needed more force to put them down, but it soon paid off. He could glimpse the largest one sliding closer and closer, the wrath in its eyes showed a hint of fear. Fear and rage were a dangerous combination. Right behind it, even more of the monsters followed behind their leader. After felling more of them, he realised the leader was right up against him, it called forth a bolt of fire that knocked him back and he saw in his blurred vision of the advancing demons. The heat of the demonic fire was so intense that his dragonbone armour could not protect him from all of it. He could see the leader preparing to use his fire against him when suddenly a burst of ice froze the powerful demon; he turned to see an elegant woman with pitch black hair and a staff that emanated cold energies; Morrigan. His strength was renewed.  
"Arise, my Warden! The enemy comes!" she called out to him, raising her staff to attack.

Aldanon sprung into action, thinning the demonic horde with every blow of his blade, his mighty battle rage giving him a strength that sprung fear into his foes. Just as Morrigan was preparing a swirling, growing cloud of snow, the other demons were alerted. They struck out for her but too late, the spell was cast and they fell on their faces as cold winds dampened their powers and their strength. She called forth more frost jets and cones of cold that froze them in their place, giving Aldanon the chance to splinter them into shards. The lesser demons began to fall back and more fell to the blizzard spell. The cold that had trapped the leader had melted; it roared in wrath and struck for Morrigan. Aldanon, seeing this sank Starfang into its molten, fluid hide. The demon roared in pain and slammed Aldanon back. But his guard was divided. Morrigan unleashed a crushing force cage that trapped the demon. Spell after spell she flung against it, until finally with a jet of cold it sank into nothingness.

"Morrigan, thank the Maker." Aldanon panted, his strength mostly spent, limping towards her, arms open.  
"Don't thank your Maker; thank me for being there to save you." She replied in an indignant tone, but softened, "I am glad you were able to overcome that situation, and I'm just as glad to see you again." Her hand crossed over to Aldanon's, for a moment all that was happening did not matter, but only for a moment.  
"I don't understand, though," Aldanon began tensely, remembering the demons, "I've never seen so many demons in one small space before, I remember Wynne saying that it normally happens because the Veil is -"  
"Thin, yes" Morrigan completed for him, "Yes, someone has been using magic to weaken the Veil, and with the recent death that's been happening in the city, the demons have been massing to find bodies to occupy."  
"That means they will start possessing bodies and creating undead!" his voice rose to a shout, and began pacing around away from Morrigan, trying to mull it over but still struggling, for many things were alive in his head.  
"I need to get back to the city," he turned to her "How did I get here? Can I get back?" he asked pressingly.  
"The only way for you to get back is if your body's been purged of what's inhibited it" she spoke clinically, "In your case, your body has been afflicted with a strange demonic-based poison that's shut your body down, you cannot return to it as it is. The only way for you to return is if an antidote is used, but until then you're stuck."  
"So until then I can't do anything to help the others, and I could die any moment?" he asked frantically.  
"Yes." she said simply. "But there is a way in which you can help the others. There's a point in the Fade, a point in which more demons are congregating to, there's necromancy at work here which has weakened the veil and called demons and spirits to inhabit bodies." Aldanon blinked hard, confused, shocked and nervous all at once.  
"Undead, are you serious, Morrigan? If so then we need to move quickly and stop the demons before the undead rise. We also need to try and do something to delay the darkspawn horde." He said half to himself.  
"T'is true indeed," Morrigan nodded, impressed by his logic "there may be a way we can achieve both. Stopping the undead first, then slowing down the horde, but that would require a powerful force to do that."  
"What do you have in mind?" he asked her, Morrigan gestured down the trail and he followed.  
"There are many dreamers in the Fade at the moment," she explained whilst on the move, "If a particularly powerful dreamer was awoken by us, it would seek us in a vengeance, but first it would have to work its way past the dakspawn horde, and when it does, the horde will be whittled down or the creature retreats or both."  
"I can't think of anything large or powerful enough to attack a whole darkspawn horde." he said hopelessly  
"The prospect is not as grim as you make it out to be," she said in a strangely encouraging voice that leaned towards cunning. "I happen to know of a rather powerful dreamer that can be enraged enough to attack them."  
"Like what?" Aldanon asked her sceptically, still not certain over her word, but did well to hide most of it.  
"Follow me and I promise we will seal the Veil and stop the horde." Morrigan said coolly, seemingly trying to dispel any fears Aldanon had. "I cannot be certain how you will react to it, but all I ask is your trust in the matter." Aldanon's uncertainty redoubled, he did not trust all this secrecy, it put his trust for Morrigan in jeopardy, much like she told him of her plan to capture the Old God's soul. Perhaps it was his original trust in Morrigan which gave her confidence in him and other individuals. He chose to continue that trust.

After an hour, Aldanon's original fears of the Fade were being put to rest, he had braved the Fade once and he wanted to avoid it then on afterwards. Occasional counsels from Morrigan were instrumental in that, but ultimately she didn't seem interested in making prolonged conversations of matters other than the Veil. There were also the recent surge of feelings about Leliana which Aldanon had to keep quiet, as well. When she returned to his thoughts, Morrigan could tell that this was one thing which she classified as a hindrance.  
"Stop thinking about her." she said in a sudden, brusque tone. Aldanon's low-lying head jerked up in surprise.  
"What do you mean 'stop thinking about her'?" he said in an almost offended yet absent voice.  
"Aldanon, you know me to be an exceptionally smart woman," she said casually at first, "don't you think that if a man's head was in the clouds because of her, I'd know?" her tone sharpened, enough to cut into him.  
"If you're referring to Leliana, then could we please keep her out of this?" he insisted firmly.  
"I will if you would." she said simply. Aldanon sighed in exasperation, he forgot how difficult she was around Leliana. A low roar echoed over the slopes; a demon. Morrigan ducked down low and gestured silently to Aldanon to do the same. They could hear the sound of magical energies emanating from a nearby plain and demons assembling. With her lead, they crept along the hillsides and found a potential vantage point to see it. At the bottom of a wide Fade-plain, a massive column of magical pale blue energies was spiralling up into the endless sky, and around it were the demons. There must have been over a hundred of them, each desperate to taste the mortal world. These ones seemed to be a common rage demons and amongst their ilk; the Hunger Demons. Aldanon had never seen the demon forms of these monsters before, and they were truly horrific, for they resembled pale-green humanoids with skeletal bodies, like ghouls, but with scaly skin that opened up in small points like miniature jaws as if to consume the smallest morsel that came by. Their sallow faces held deep, black, lightless eyes and multiple mouths that held lines of sharp jagged teeth. He swallowed hard.

"Have courage, Aldanon." Morrigan said calmly, in an almost soothing voice "These demons are the weaker of their kind and you have my spells at your side. But only for a short time, for I'm the only one who can seal the rip in the Veil, but that requires you to draw their attention away from me while I perform the incantations."  
"How long do you think we have before they all come through, Morrigan?"Aldanon asked her.  
"A few minutes, perhaps five." She estimated in a calculating voice, but quickly turned urgent. "They're beginning to file into the rift, you need to go down now." At first Aldanon did not respond immediately, with a frustrated groan she prodded him in the breastplate with her staff, sending him careering down the hill. Once he regained his footing, he turned about to the rift in the Veil and froze in fear. The demons had noticed him. He drew Starfang and dropped into a defensive stance, he glanced behind him to see Morrigan preparing a spell of chain lightning. The demons stood their ground at first, studying him, then the ones closest to him struck out. He had not anticipated the ravenous power of the hunger demons, their ability to fight was like that of a rage demon; all-consumingly wrathful, these ones were wrathfully all-consuming. It seemed that the more damage they dealt on him the more their health would be replenished. With their long claws, they would slice into his armour and expose him to their many jaws, or try to latch onto him and overwhelm him. But his valour had to triumph over them. From time to time he would see Morrigan's ice spells reduce a rage demon to broken crumpled carcasses. After a short while, Morrigan seemed to have disappeared from the battle. Typical, Aldanon thought cynically. Some of the demons realised their fight was of no use and started retreating through the Veil. Demons continued to fall around him, but his stamina was depleting quickly. A sharp, crackling noise pierced the echoing air; the energies which marked the rip in the Veil were thinning. Morrigan was doing her job. Realising their chance to enter the mortal world was slipping, the demons darted for the rift. Aldanon's chance had come, drawing on his war rage, he drew his sword to the retreating demons, cutting them down as he went. The skirmishes against them were brief, for his armour and weaponry gave him the edge in combat. Within a short while the demons were retreating, stealing back into the never-ending wastelands.

Aldanon looked up at the rip in the Veil, it was no longer rejuvenating, the winding threads of energy were lashing out around it; where was Morrigan? He heard a strange laugh, a woman's voice, behind him.  
"Well done, Warden." the source of the voice, Morrigan, praised him enticingly, "The demons are gone, and now the Veil is almost repaired, I would suggest you go through it and return to the mortal world." Aldanon stared at her in confusion, there was something very clearly wrong about this. Yet he felt inclined to believe her. Everything about her seemed so...welcoming, so agreeable, so faultless. But he had to see through it.  
"I thought you said I could not return to the real world due to the poison." he said warily, but the woman smiled.  
"I did, but it occurred to me that you could simply return to the real world through this rip in the Veil. The poison merely traps you here, provided the Veil remains intact, but now there's a way out. Once you return, you will be able to return to your body and continue your battle against the darkspawn." The idea was tempting, so tempting that Aldanon could not see no flaw in it. He longed to return, but he was not about to forsake Morrigan's words.  
"Begone, Demon of Desire!" he called out to her, who stepped back in disgust, "I will not be subject to your games!" he drew his sword and advanced, only to be caught in a cage of collapsing energies. His body was breaking down. The desire demon unmasked herself and glided towards him, a venomous glare on her face. Just as she raised her hands to produce another curse, Morrigan appeared behind her. A magical shockwave broke Aldanon's cage, freeing him to send his sword through her slender body while Morrigan send lightning surges through her body. As Aldanon fought to regain his breath, Morrigan uttered one more spell to seal the Veil and as if to her command the energies dissolved into nothing.  
"You did well, Aldanon," Morrigan said in a complimentary voice, "It seems experiences with demons were not wasted on you." Aldanon looked over the defeated forms of the demons, in his deep breaths he smiled wryly.  
"Now we need to stop the darkspawn from doing more damage to the city." he said after a while.  
"Indeed, we do." she said plainly, pacing as she went, which soon turned into a fast stride. Aldanon looked at her in confusion and followed behind her, looking back at where the rip in the Veil was, the desire demon's temptation still ringing in his ears and after a moment's thought he fought his fatigue and followed her.

They continued to travel the wastelands. The journey must have been an hour's length, and the silence was just as painful ad the journey, he was only glad that Morrigan's actions conveyed conviction to his cause. A great, ear-splitting roar penetrated the dead atmosphere. Aldanon ducked to the ground in surprise and drew his sword. Morrigan beckoned him to follow. He crept along beside her, trying to pinpoint the source of what seemed to be loud breathing. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found. A great creature lay in deep sleep in the valley. It's massive bulk consisted of a wide body and heavily muscled and clawed legs which did not lift it far off the ground and opposable claws on it's forearms, a sweeping tail and a broad yet snakelike neck which lead to a broad-snouted reptilian head with long fangs bared in it's sleep and a crown of three horns along it's head. It was covered in hard, green scales, like tenfold shields folded over and over, with high bony ridges along it's back running from it's head, down it's tail.  
"Maker's breath!" Aldanon said weakly in terror, finding his voice at last. Morrigan grinned smugly at him as though she were proudly showing the creature of as her newest weapon of war. "What is it?" he asked in fear.  
"T'is a Great Wyrm; a male dragon." she said whilst taking it the incredible might of the new monster. "It was once a drake. No bigger than that. But once in every brood of drakes, there are a few who are able to continue their growth until they become as large as their High Dragon counterparts, and just as powerful. At that size, they can copulate with the female after her first clutch of eggs, thus allowing more dragons to be born. They are largely nomadic and rarely meet High Dragons; while they don't fly, their fighting strength is unmatched."  
"This is incredible," he said stepping gently towards the sleeping dragon, "But what has this got to do with our plan to hinder the darkspawn?" He asked sceptically and looked about, only noticing the cunning look on Morrigan's face, "Wait, you're not actually suggesting that we... No, no we can't!" he burst in shock, "You want to draw that monster to attack the horde? Morrigan, even by your standards, it's insane!!" he fumed, infuriated, Morrigan glared at his staunch refusal, the same look she gave him when he nearly refused the ritual. "There are maybe up to a million lives in Val Royeaux, they'll all be at risk if it turns its attention to the city."  
"If you wish to refuse the only chance you may have to hinder the advancing darkspawn, then I shall leave you to the mercies of the demons. But if you are wise, then you'll give into this choice. You've ensured no more undead rise, now take this chance to deal with the darkspawn. Take this chance and I promise I will find you a way back." Aldanon's face froze in thought, he did not want to risk Val Royeaux, but he had little other choice  
"Very well." he said in a dejected, broken voice. "But what do you want in return? How does this further your own advancement?" he questioned her roughly. Strangely, her face seemed to show a hurt emotion.  
"Because you are more important to this world alive than dead." she said bitterly, she was hurt by Aldanon's brusque questioning. "What I want in return is to continue with my original agenda to raise the baby, I gain nothing by helping you, other than knowing that the darkspawn will no longer pose a danger to me."  
"Strange," he said quietly, staring down at the ground, completely taken aback by her and ashamed of his words. "I thought I knew you. Yet you continue to surprise me in ways I'm scarcely prepared for. I am sorry."  
"Warden, I assure you," she said lightly with a slight chuckle, "few know me well as all, let alone as well as you. Now come, listen to my plan and be prepared to accept that what will happen will be to your long-term benefit."

_Morrigan, I hate you!_ Aldanon raged inside his mind as the Great Wyrm's massive jaws came down to snag him once more. She had told him to directly engage the dragon by himself while she went in search for a powerful demon which would weaken the dragon and cause it to wake up from the Fade. The battle would have ended all too soon, where it not for the the veins of lyrium to replenish his health. In it's tired state, the male dragon was not nearly as vigorous as Aldanon had anticipated, but was becoming more determined to finish him. As it became more lively, it's great claws hitting the ground sent rock and dust into the air. He ducked the spiked tail and sank Starfang into it's left hind leg. Before he could wrench it free, it huge clawed forearm came down on him, it's claws breaking into his resilient armour. He gritted his teeth as it's deafening roar crashed down on his ears and lifted him towards it's jaws. A bolt of fire hit the side of the dragon's face, as he roared in rage and pain, he released Aldanon from his grip. Aldanon looked to where the magical strike had come from. The beast was dark grey with a long horn-crowned head with sharp, jagged scales for skin, long arms with great claws and carried itself on two legs, a Pride Demon. The only times he came across this nightmare among the demons of the Fade was in the Circle Tower and a chance encounter in the Deep Roads. It's roar echoed across the Fade, and strode across the hills towards the Wyrm, which met the demon with open jaws and a thundering roar. The two titans clashed. The demon's claws wrapped around the dragon's long neck, applying magical damage to each swipe, it's clawed feet sunk into the dragon's hide as it clawed up it's challenger. But the dragon was not without ability; for it was three times the size of the demon, and with a massive lunge it's claws send the demon back onto the ground. The demon called a surge of ice and the dragon froze on the spot. With all it's magic, the demon sent billowing spirit energy upon it, refreeze it and assault it again. According to Morrigan's plan, this was the moment to intervene. She called on the same spell of ice and froze the Pride Demon in place, barraged it with lightning, and Aldanon swiped his sword through it's legs and plunged Starfang into it's back. The spell broke and the demon was free to strike. Aldanon fought the demon till all his might was spent, but as soon as Morrigan had used her mana she turned to a lyrium vein and sent her spell might upon the arrogant demon. At the last moment, the Wyrm broke free, heaved it's weight up, and fire cascaded onto the demon. Too late it realised it's arrogance to face all three foes spelled it's downfall as it crashed to the ground, fire coursing through it's body.

This wasn't the end of the battle, they now had to send the dragon back. The dragon was visibly weakened, but more than a match for two human opponents. Aldanon charged into the dragon's view, withstanding a bolt of fire as he rushed on. Raising his sword and evading the Wyrm's bite, he plunged his sword below it's neck, it's ice enchantment freezing it's blood. The enraged dragon took him in his claws and gaped wide to bite down, only to be frozen in place. Spending all her magic again, the maddened Wyrm came down upon her, but Aldanon had already ascended it's neck and head and plunged his sword into it's head. In one of rage and pain, it roared it's way out of the Fade. The Wyrm would soon be out of it's nightmare. Aldanon caught up with Morrigan.  
"We did it." he panted, victorious relief rising in his voice, "I would never have believed that two humans could defeat a Dragon and a Pride demon. Not at the same time of course, but we could not have been more amazing!"  
"T'was a glowing victory indeed." Morrigan said, "Now I must warn you; the Wyrm will seek you out, but it will also have to battle the darkspawn horde. The only thing that could divert it's hunt from you is a High Dragon." Aldanon's insides froze, if the dragon was anywhere near the city, the dragon could kill him while he was still in the Fade. He had been warned that this was the price he had to pay, but the reality of it hit him hard.  
"What of getting out of here?!" he said urgently, "You said you would help me get out, will you live up to that?" but before Morrigan could answer, he felt energies coursing around his body. The obscurity of the Fade was darkening, as if he were passing into a tunnel. He tried to fight it but the draw of that other place was too strong.  
"I think someone has already taken care of that for you, Warden." Morrigan said in a tone that betrayed amazement as well as slight humour. Aldanon tried to speak but she held up her hand in silence. "I fear this may be the last time we meet, Aldanon. Live your life any way you choose as long as you live it. If Leliana is indeed in the city, come to her. Our time is over. But your time with her may be beginning. I've sensed how much she feels for you. Farewell... my love." as the energies swept around him and numbed his consciousness she took his face in her hands and kissed him. With that last vestige of her affection, Aldanon was gone from the Fade.


	28. The Grey Warden Rises

**The Grey Warden Rises**

Even as Wynne, Zevran and Oghren were being held by Marjolaine's minions, hope was not ended. The Sun had risen; though the clouds continued to darken the sky, the pitch black of that night was ended. Though it wasn't enough to raise the spirits of men, it was enough to spark the first flicker of hope that victory was not beyond likelihood. In that cave where Aldanon lay, where the potion was destroyed; the chamber had cooled. The vapours of potion that survived the fireball had grouped together and formed condensation over Aldanon's pale face. His dry mouth was open, and in the coolness of the cave, droplets formed in his mouth and in his throat. For a long time, nothing happened. His armour shook as he inhaled.

The sound of groaning from within the caves was growing stronger. Marjolaine ordered her mercenary forces to form a defensive line and prepare to face whatever was coming, she could tell it wasn't undead. François used a sleep spell on Leliana but kept her strapped to the device and the prisoners were forced along with the elves.  
"Be prepared to destroy whatever comes this way." she hissed to Aundar, who nodded and jumped down the platform to join the mercenaries. Their wild eyes attempted to pierce the shadowy cloak but to no avail.  
"Whatever is coming, we should get a better look at it." François said, he sent a wisp down the tunnel, what he saw gave him a heart attack. He lurched back in horror and spontaneously ordered the warriors to attack. From their corner of the building, Wynne, Zevran, Oghren and the Wardens could not see anything, but the sound of battle and screaming sent their hearts racing. The mercenaries retreated; the shadowy cloak was cast off.  
"I see I best you even while unconscious. I am that amazing." announced Aldanon Cousland. Despite his bold statement, he looked a mess. His scar across his head was still red, bruises and dirt stains covered his face, which was rough and grizzly, and his hair was matted and stringy. His armour was in a worse state; it was scratched, battered and dented, and coppery from wear and tear. Entire parts of his armour were missing; to prevent them from falling off and to allow full mobility in battle, he'd taken the loose bits in a sack slung across his shoulder.  
"YOU!! You're dead!" Marjolaine shouted breathlessly, sounding as if she just had a heart attack and cowered.  
Wynne burst into jubilant laughing, Zevran's eyes widened and exclaimed "That is ridiculously awesome!" Oghren laughed out and called out to Aldanon, and Maximus, who had been hiding in the shadows bounded to Aldanon, panting, slobbering and barking happily. As soon as master and hound reunited, they turned towards their foes. In panic and confusion, the mercenaries struck out for Aldanon; but he roared out to them and his hound howled to the heavens, breaking their morale, leaving them powerless before the risen Aldanon's blade and Max's fangs. Marjolaine attempted to gain control of the situation, but she too was shocked by Aldanon's fiery ire. Aldanon turned towards his chained companions, raised Starfang and smote Geoffrey's shackles, then Osecar's. The elven mage ignited their blades, reducing the effort needed to free the others while Maximus held back the enemy. Once they were all free, Aldanon drew his Cousland war horn and it's blast shook the rafters and beam's of Marjolaine's lair. And now, Aldanon had a special mission; Leliana.

The Battle was joined. Osecar had conjured another flow of ignited grease to hold back enemy advance while the others went for their weapons. They needed to move quickly, Marjolaine had mustered all her forces; mages and undead. With unified speed, strength, and purpose they attacked. Geoffrey cut though the anderfel warriors with unparalleled wrath, making his way to duel Aundar. Argeles leapt across the beams, giving short bursts of strikes and moving onto the next, letting his foes bleed to death. Wynne set her staff to the ground, sending earth tremors at the undead and beating them to the ground, she successfully petrified a maleficar and with a single stonefist blast, he was reduced to rubble. Guided by magic and will, Osecar put his ignited blade to the innards of every freelance elf that could not be persuaded to back down. Elanea liberated the chained elves, but one only ran deeper into the caves; she took to higher ground and with marksman grace and precision, felled everything in her path. Benoit was expert with the hammer and thus with the mace, and he found himself challenging Oghren, he beat the dwarf over the head several times and dented his armour, but Oghren pummelled him down with his pommel and his axe crashed down on his neck and through his mace, killing him in a bloody mess. Suddenly he was beset by anderfel warriors, but Durin was right behind them; his axe would cut right through them or his shield would crush them. Iurups and Zevran were locked in mortal combat across the upper levels in intense dagger-to-dagger combat, both rogues stabbed as the other stabbed, both parried as the other parried; they were trained bys similar circles of assassins, but a stroke of luck turned in favour for Zevran. A loose floorboard gave way; with satisfaction, Zevran drew both his daggers and swiped every vein in the tevinter's neck Iurups dropped to the ground like a limp rat. François tried to subdue the overpowering enemy with a sleep spell, only to be paralysed by Osecar. With the mage neutralized, Aldanon made his move. He sprung through the mercenaries and towards the stairs leading to the platform where Marjolaine was holding Leliana. The platform itself was heavily guarded by archers, of whom Marjolaine was one of them, many who were able to pin him to the ground or prevent his advance by rapid fire, and his damaged armour was no contribution. He needed a distraction.

"Aldanon, here I come! FOR FERELDEN!!!" Anora roared as she charged into view. She was clad in Aldanon's silverite Armour of Diligence and carried her father's sword and shield. Behind her came Ser Perth and the remaining members of the Royal Regiment, they followed and echoed her as they charged. Her very presence caused the entire battle to still for the next few moments until she felled the first two mercenaries in her path and the knights followed her, roaring to the Maker as she charged down on them. Their hostility spawned immediate action from Marjolaine's forces, but it was not enough to challenge the wrath of the knights and the Wardens behind them. The battle turned to a rout and Marjolaine's archer's turned to face this new nemesis. This was the distraction Aldanon needed; he sheathed Starfang. He bore his shield up with his right and charged with all his might. As he ran behind the archers, he belted his shield into their backs, sending them down the the ground with stunned backs, one shield bash per enemy. Only Marjolaine stood in his way. She drew her two daggers and lunged to kill, but in vain for Aldanon had parried with both sword and shield. He waved his sword in a wide arc, temporarily knocking his foes daggers out of her hand, and moved to strike through her drakeskin leathers. The blade only grazed them, for she had dodged the cold blade. In an underhanded move, she flung a hard kick to Aldanon's codpiece that sent him stumbling back. Before his could strike back with renewed rage, she'd jumped off the platform. Why she abandoned her victim, Aldanon hardly knew; but this was the perfect opportunity to free Leli. He raised Starfang and thrusted it onto the manacles, breaking them instantly and without harming her. Being unconscious, she was not aware of her freedom, the battle, nor of Aldanon, and she dropped into his arms. Taking this as a priceless chance, he held her to linger within his arms, his heart racing for joy as he savoured his brief reunion with her, despite it's incomplete sentiment due to her unconsciousness. Out of the corner of his eye, Anora's critical eye froze him on the spot. He knew what she was thinking; it wasn't his momentary stillness in battle, but his rediscovery of a potential love. Suddenly, she doubled over; her side erupted with blood and she screamed in agony. A dagger had was buried in her left side. She collapsed to the ground in agony. Aldanon glanced past her left and found Marjolaine in a crouched position, a satisfied look on her face and one of her dagger missing. Rage fumed up inside him, and in blind anger he turned about to face his foe on open ground. However, the undead blocked his path and he was not armed, and bearing a precious passenger. Before the undead could swarm him, Zevran and Elanea jumped down and cut the corpses back. Elanea was convinced by Aldanon's pleading look and Zevran's serious nod that Leliana was important to their cause, and turned her attention the the undead. In a stroke of brilliant ingenuity, Zevran took of Aldanon's Redcliffe Shield and tossed it to the floor in front of them. Aldanon tried to stop him, but Zevran hopped on top of it and Elanea joined him, she thrusted the shield forward over the floorboards and down the stairs. As the shield sped down the stairs, the undead were cannoned off, cut down by Zevran's flurry of blows to the undead in the front and Elanea's arrows to any survivors. Gaining momentum and purpose, Aldanon rushed down the stairs with Leliana aboard his left shoulder, Zevran tossed him his shield, which he caught with his left and thus forming a perfect guard and giving him an arm to draw Starfang. With the two elves at his side, he sounded his Cousland horn, signalling all his allies to rally around him. One of the men with the knights was a man in what Aldanon recognised as chevalier armour, at first he raised his blade to attack the shocked orlesian but was stayed by Ser Perth.  
"Stand down, Aldanon!" he called to him, "This is Chevalier General Tremir, the man who saved Anora from d'Aubrac, brought her here and found my knights." Aldanon lowered his sword and acknowledged the new ally.

Though the enemy were now considerably thinned and his allies were now boosted, Aldanon knew that the only way to completely halt the tide of danger draw the enemy out of the building and fight them on their own terms. Wynne was tending to Anora now, who had sustained a lot of blood loss and was growing weaker. The knights, Geoffrey and Argeles formed a protective circle around Aldanon, Anora, his companions and the other wardens, halting the advances of Marjolaine's forces' advance, ignited blades from Osecar's magic were a welcome gift.  
"We need to get out of the warehouse and get to safety." Aldanon said to Geoffrey as he finished a mercenary.  
"Agreed; once we get out we can call reinforcements to fight this Marjolaine." he said firmly as he directed the knights towards the exit, and smiled briefly. "And Aldanon, it's good to see you back." Aldanon returned the smile. Suddenly a loud rumble mixed with electrical crackling shook the building and stilled the battle again. Osecar could see white wisps materializing and buzzing around the building; soon whole clouds of them formed and started scattered around, disappearing into the corpses of felled mercenaries, anderfel warriors, turned elves and malificarum. The bodies shook and tensed; in a matter of seconds the corpses moved and rose. Osecar knew what this meant; if demons were possessing bodies then with the recent deaths and magic from the evil mage then the Veil was ripped again. They had already taken out five of the mages who were led by François, where there more? In answer another three clad in black tevinter robes emerged from the caverns, hordes of undead surrounding them. The malificarum raised their staffs, and in response the undead were under their control.  
"Aldanon, the rip in the Veil has been torn open again!" Osecar shouted over the intensifying battle, "We need to seal it before more undead rise and spread across the city. Even Marjolaine can't control that many of them!"  
"How can we seal it, Osecar?" Wynne said loudly to him, "There's no Circle-known spell that can do that!"  
"And with the growing numbers of undead, the task borders impossibility." Tremir said in recognition.  
"Well, what do you propose?!" Aldanon called to Osecar as he engaged a group of walking corpses.  
"There were some raw lyrium crystals in the caverns;" Osecar explained elaborately, "if they were destroyed, the energy released will disrupt and cancel out the energies maintained in keeping the rupture open will dissipate thus preventing more demons from possessing corpses. I suggest splitting up; one group gets out of here with Anora and Leliana, the other goes down to stop the undead and free any prisoners here." Aldanon considered his friend's words carefully. They needed to get out as fast as possible, but at the same time they couldn't afford to let a single corpse out of the building to wreak havoc. They also needed to end Marjolaine's threat once and for all.  
"I'll go down into the building with Osecar," he announced to the assembled group, "Oghren, Max, Zevran, Argeles, Ser Perth – you will come with me. Geoffrey, take Wynne, Elanea, Tremir, Durin and the knights out of the building. Defend Anora and try to heal her." he lunged to dart from the group but stopped and turned to Wynne. "And Wynne, maintain the sleep spell on Leliana, we can't have her waking up in the midst of battle in her weakened state." he understood how much he was asking of her to heal and protect two people of great importance to him, but she already knew the gravity of the task and the situation. She nodded in response. Aldanon's hand-picked companions gathered around him. He nodded to them, and with tremendous purpose, they charged. The force of their breaking of their formation came as a winding blow to the enemy, but they could not afford to act on it, they would leave the shocked enemies to the knights. Following Osecar's lead, they darted for the caves.

Osecar held his staff ahead of the group, as if trying to detect the lyrium crystals, his speed enhanced by a potion of haste. Aldanon, Ser Perth, Oghren, Zevran, Maximus and Argeles followed behind him, and behind them were Marjolaine's undead and her soldiers. Suddenly the ground shook. Aldanon, Argeles and Osecar could sense what this meant. Around them them the ground and the walls gave way and out of the holes came the darkspawn. Their unrelenting savagery tore through the undead like a black torrent and many mercenaries fled before their sheer ferocity only to be cut down, become occupied by demons, and fight the darkspawn all over again. This was the diversion they needed, Osecar's staff was detecting crystals and they sped off. Before long, their lead guided them to a small cave filled with supplies. Aldanon, Osecar, Oghren and Max searched the room, leaving Ser Perth, Zevran and Argeles to guard the door. They searched about hurriedly but turned up nothing, until Max sniffed the crystal out and a strange curio: a rather cute looking nug in a cage. The dog sniffed the caged animal eagerly and started barking in joy, he recognised it's scent, the nug snuffled Max and squeaked frantically.  
"Good work, boy!" Oghren applauded the dog, but focussed eagerly on the nug and broke it's cage. "You've found the crystal, and something to eat!" but before he could touch it, Max bit his gauntleted hand ferociously. "Ow! Why, you little..." he growled, threatening to knock the dog senseless before Aldanon stopped him.  
"It's not Max's fault, he's just found Leli's pet nug, Smooch – um..." he struggled to say it. "Schmooples."  
"Never mind the nug, we have the crystal." Osecar asserted imperatively. "Now, only Oghren and I can handle the crystal, but what we have to detonate it and the other crystals simultaneously; that will create the most energy at once which will disrupt the rupture in the Veil and cause the caves to collapse." Aldanon's spine shivered.  
"'Cause the caves to collapse', why didn't you mention this before?!" he pressured, but Osecar was undaunted.  
"I'm afraid so, but if we are fast enough, we will get out before the energies cause the place to collapse." he said quickly, and took out a pouch of black powder. "This is an explosive power; I will line it up to the lyrium and ignite it, the powder will react in a linear manner and give us time to get out. This is the plan." Aldanon nodded understandably, recognising he had little choice and that though the risk was great, it was their best solution.

Aldanon joined Ser Perth, Argeles, Max, and Zevran to halt the darkspawn advance and give time for Osecar and Oghren's search through the caves for the lyrium crystals. He had left a spill of ignited grease and fiery blades to aid them, but the intensity of battle from three foes from many sides was nearing overwhelming, for they were weary and had not rested since they were freed from their enemy's chains. The darkspawn seemed slightly daunted by the prospect of facing more than one foe, but their savagery forced them on. Everything depended on time, speed, and Osecar's own ability. Deep within the caves, Osecar had succeeded in locating another one of the crystals and Oghren managed to prevent another tunnel full of darkspawn from opening. Osecar was the only one who could handle the lyrium safely, and thus the only one who could carry it back in his pack. The caves spanned in an arc, and his staff was telling him that the remaining three crystals necessary were not far off. He struck luck, and enemy mages. Osecar blasted them back with a fireball whilst Oghren charged headlong, ignoring the heat. One of the mages was paralysed, leaving him to be dealt by Osecar and Oghren to dispatch the other with one sweep. Seeing the crystals, Osecar dived for them. There were animated corpses in the cave, but time dictated that they couldn't stay. The cave started trembling; more darkspawn were coming. The walls of the cave were starting to give in. There may have been more crystals where they hadn't searched. He gestured to Oghren to go on without him. Taking some strong lyrium potions, Osecar conjured a long spill of grease and ignited it with a blast of fire. The heat would with hope, ignite the crystals and slow the darkspawn, unless they had emissaries. And with all the death around them, more demons were taking bodies.

Oghren reached the cave where Aldanon and the others held defence. Zevran had been wounded and Argeles was spent. He dumped the crystals on the pile and prepared to strike them with his axe. Suddenly a frightened scream stilled his axe; a drawn, terrified elven woman recoiled in a corner, shielding what seemed to be a bundle in her arms. But she was losing blood from an open wound in her leg. Osecar arrived, followed by Aldanon and the others. They all halted in their place as well, unnerved by this deplorable sight. But Aldanon stepped forth.  
"Come with us," he beckoned warmly as she recoiled. "We won't harm you, we're here to end this evil place." But the elf did not seem to be heed him at first, but softened when her eyes met his. She tensed in pain again.  
"No..." the elf murmured hoarsely, and took the bundle to her forehead, and in lamentation, murmured what must have been an elvish song. Aldanon recognised it; the last verse of _'In Urthenera'_. The elegance of that song captivated all within the room. When she finished, she looked up at him and gently laid the bundle in his hands. "Too late for me." she said weakly, her eyes flitting closed. "Take my baby, human. I can see your soul is not evil. She cannot die here. Give her the love and freedom she deserves." with her last breath, she passed to the Maker. Aldanon stepped back from her, he opened the wraps of cloth; the baby was healthy in spite of the terrible conditions; her mother really had given her everything. Gently he held the baby in his gauntleted hands, completely stunned for it all while she wrestled to be more comfortable. Snapping back to his senses, he carefully handed her over to Zevran. Suddenly, more roars erupted from deeper within the caves.  
"Aldanon, the crystals are ready for ignition." Osecar said firmly to him, he'd finished the preparations.

With the elven girl in Zevran's capable hands, they darted for freedom. Osecar turned around and ignited the powder. The explosives sparked into action; they would only have minutes. A guttural, gargling roar came right behind them. The darkspawn had caught up. In instinctive motion, the warriors wheeled about and smote them where they stood, they were too frightened to put up a fight. But they were just one of the many forerunners of an ominous vanguard; behind them was a horde of what seemed to be hundreds, bolstered by both hurlock and genlock emissaries and alphas and shrieks. They must have come from a passage way that lead from the Deep Roads to this part of the city, part of a strike force that the leader must have sent to flank the defenders.  
"Keep moving! We can't let them get to the surface!!" Aldanon roared over the chaos, tearing through the tunnels ahead of his companions. Suddenly the dog stopped in his steps, the nug he was holding in his jaws slipped up, but before the others could be halted, he took the nug by the scruff of his neck. The nug's presence reminded Aldanon. _Shlooples_, Aldanon attempted to rehearse the nug's name in his head as they ran, _or was is Schpooples? No,no Schmooples! _The upward tunnel leading to the surface of the warehouse was just twenty yards away. Suddenly the earth shook, and the beams holding the ceiling of the tunnel started collapsing, one of the beams started to fall on top Zevran, but Argeles pushed the elf out of the path of the beam and it collapsed on his leg.  
"Argeles!!" Aldanon turned about and tried to help his fallen comrade up, but the stoic warden shoved him away.  
"Don't!" he urged him through gritted teeth, as he kept resisting Aldanon's efforts to lift him up. "I'm fit enough to fight, but not enough to run. Leave me, you've lost too much time." They stared at him in a mixture of shock and reverence. He was prepared to die. "Just put me on my feet, and get out of here, Your Majesty." Aldanon stood dumbfounded, the man rarely regarded him as a leading figure, much less as his assumed title. He was reluctant to leave at first and saluted him as Argeles rose, and he did the same. There was certainly little enough chance he could hold the darkspawn for long, and more were coming. But the others drew him away from Argeles, who had drawn both his daggers and engaged the coming darkspawn with full force, but still more pursued. Sunddenly a woman with strong features and dark hair tied back charged past them and against the darkspawn, she swung her greatsword in a wide arc and the enemy were sent reeling back. Aldanon recognised the aid he'd received; Ser Cauthrien.

As they ran, Osecar's mind knew how long it would have taken for the lyrium to completely ignite; the time was now, the energy would destroy every living thing in it's path for the entire width of the warehouse. Argeles' shouts could be heard from the now narrowing cavern, no explosions. Then they came. From out of the deep, the explosions came. They managed to make their way out of the caves and into the main building. The ground was littered with dead mercenary corpses and darkspawn that made it up. The ground started exhaling heavy rumbles, the ground shook and after a series of explosions from within the earth the entrance collapsed. From within, the rumbling continued as the tunnels gave in, after a while it subsided and with it, the sounds of battle and Argeles.  
"This building could ignite very easily." Osecar said, half to himself, "But a bit more grease could speed it up."  
"You want to ignite the building?!" Oghren queried him incredulously, "What, is the lyrium not enough?!"  
"It is a worthy goal," Ser Perth said ardently, "Let us eliminate both our enemies in full." Aldanon nodded in consent, sheathed Starfang and drew his reforged Family Sword; Osecar ignited their weapons. Each set themselves to the beams of the building; they plunged and lashed at the beams, causing the feeble wood to catch fire, but not enough to lead to ignition; until Osecar played his part. Calling on another lyrium potion, he covered the entire building with grease. Calling on his last reserve of power, he ignited it. The fire lit up the entire region of the city, and almost blinded Aldanon and his companions, given enough time; it would completely collapse.  
"NOO!! This is my vengeance, and I will not have anyone take it away" Marjolaine drew her dagger and lunged herself at Aldanon, Ser Perth grasped her by her collar and threw her to the ground and held his sword at her neck. "Aundar! François! I need you! Kill them!" but her two best allies were thirty feet up, breaking their way out of the warehouse and jumping onto a neighbouring roof. She struggled to free herself, but Aldanon struck her dagger through her leathers and into the ground; missing her flesh, but pinning her in place..  
"Leave her! Just get out before the building gives in!!" Aldanon called to his companions, and turned to Marjolaine, his voice and expressions rumbled with thunder. "And you; you will die here." a collapsing rafter came down behind him. He took it was his only warning and left her. Marjolaine looked at him in enraged terror as he darted towards the exit, screaming through the burning.


	29. The Setting Moon and the Rising Sun

**The Setting Moon and the Rising Sun  
**  
The darkened clouds still hung over Val Royeaux, but their rough hues had a filthy greyish brown about them due to the sun being out, and there were signs of dampening. Thin beams of sunlight were flickering in and out of existence through these clouds. Though it was still dismally dour, this was the closest thing Aldanon came to natural light in a long time, and he savoured it the moment he was a safe distance away from the burning warehouse that was Marjolaine's lair. Though the shock of all that occurred was still fresh in his mind, the relief was stronger than anything else. The relief of being able to breath the free, flowing fresh air. The signs of battle were all around him; seven of the knights had fallen in battle with the mercenaries, and those of the enemy who had followed them were strewn about the alleyway leading to the building. The survivors had taken camp a few hundred yards away to rest. The others rushed ahead of him to rest, but Aldanon stopped and turned to look at the burning ruin of the warehouse. The uproar of the fire was quickly joined by crackling of breaking wood, all within view of the warehouse stared at length as it crashed to the ground, and thus reduced to ashes. This was Marjolaine's tomb, the end of the darkspawn sortie and the demonic invasion, and more importantly; Argeles' pyre. Everyone looked on sombrely and in forlorn; Argeles was usually something of a hardened, unforgiving sort, but he placed his loyalty to all within his knowing; the wardens believed he had the ability to put the others before himself, they were glad that his hard shell carried a noble soul. Now another life hung in the balance.

Aldanon rushed to Anora's side, blood streaming from her dagger wound like a red tide, her skin was growing ever paler. He took her weakened form in her arms, trying to gently wake her up. And she did, if only just. She breathed heavily from the pain that took hold from the wound, but a smile of acceptance appeared on her face in spite of it all, he seemed content, knowing that she had lived a successful life in politics and served Ferelden to the best of her abilities, and that she had a husband who could carry the mantle of leadership.  
"Dying in your arms," she breathed wryly, but smiled, "how romantic." Aldanon looked at her painfully.  
"You're not dying, don't be stupid, it's only a dagger, Wynne come here and help us!" he uttered frantically.  
"I can't; the poison in the dagger is now in her system, I could not cure it," Wynne said resignedly, a tear forming in her eye, Aldanon stared at her pleadingly. "Even if I could, the process would cause her great pain that might kill her from shock. I'm just too exhausted and drained, I even had to call on the spirit to help her. We had to fight more of them when we ran, and the knights were dying and they needed healing too. I had to make a choice, Aldanon, and I've made it." her voice broke, and Aldanon softened at her words but hardened again.  
"We're not giving up on her just like that, use the magic, come on!" he urged Wynne, but Anora took over.  
"Then I guess you don't know good advice when you see it, if she refuses then I'm content." Her voice slipped into a peaceful whisper. Aldanon stared at her, aghast, was he the only one who wanted her to live?  
"Heal her. Just heal her." He urged Wynne, but received nothing; "Please, _Please_! Just heal her! _Come on_!" Aldanon compelled to her, much louder this time, his face contorted with desperation, but still – nothing.  
"You don't need me to survive to ensure Ferelden progresses in one piece." Anora murmured softly.  
"But you've got to, come on," Aldanon croaked, tears forming in his eyes, "it can't end like this. We had such plans, you and me, all we could have done. We were going to form the great Ferelden fleet, enough to rival the Antivan Armada, and the formation of Denerim's second university. We were going to form our own branch of the Andrastian Chantry, in Ferelden." Anora stared at him, amazed of his memory of her ambitions, blood beginning to trickle from her mouth, "You were Ferelden's true leader. I'm no king, just a soldier on the throne." he continued to look deep into her, as if his eyes were pleading to her to hold on, he turned to his companions.  
"HEAL HER!!!" he exploded out in desperation, only realising too late what he sounded like, what he was saying and what he looked like to his companions when he yelled out. He hid his face from their eyes in shame, and from Wynne's cross, offended, scolding face that was enough to humble even the highest noble.  
"Aldanon, politics don't make a king alone," Anora said ever so weakly, and growing weaker "you've shown me that it takes more than a sharp mind and quick tongue to rule, you have all the qualities of a fine king, you can give people hope, you have a heart to make the right decisions, and you showed me when it's right to dispense justice.... So, from this hour henceforth, I hereby pronounce you - Aldanon Cousland - King of Ferelden. I transfer all powers, both political and regal, unto you. I would have bowed you, my husband... my warden... my _king_." with her last breath of 'king', Queen Anora Mac Tir was no more. Aldanon knelt over her cold body, his armour shaking as his hands gave way and dropped her limp head to the ground. Anora lay with the blood from the dagger wound gushing out and draining all colour from her skin. All the meanness, taciturnity, discontent and the ceaseless ambition were all gone from her face. Her deceptively fair appearance now harboured a peaceful look, one that did not reflect her nature, which was purged all of the foul qualities that people associated with her. It also seemed that after years of a harsh political life, she was finally at peace. He took his hands slowly away from Anora's deceased form and stepped backwards, still absorbing the unbelievable reality; Anora gave up her pride as she died. Behind him his friends and peers knelt on one knee before the new King of Ferelden.  
_  
'King of Ferelden'_. As a boy growing up in Highever, it was a title Aldanon merely would dream about and battle Fergus over all across the Castle. He would have never have believed it of someone told him told him that he would actually ascend to the throne of Ferelden. His role as king-consort was a favour on Alistair's behalf, as well as taking advantage of his own status as a noble, and because he knew Anora since childhood. Like Anora would remind him several times, he was only near the throne, and wielded little political power. He was excited to come close to the throne, and misunderstood Alistair's loathing to the idea. Now, he understood perfectly.  
"Stop bowing before me," Aldanon said firmly to his knights, "I'm not king, and Maker knows I shouldn't be."  
"Anora declared you king upon her deathbed, Aldanon" Ser Perth stated adamantly, yet with strong, renewed respect for Aldanon. "Therefore we will honour her last request. If you will not take the throne, then who will?"  
"I don't know. Arl Alistair? I'm sure Eamon will be eager to put him on the throne." Aldanon supposed hopefully.  
"Are you mad, Aldanon?" Zevran asked incredulously, "Imagine the things you could do as the country's king. I thought this was something you always wanted. Honestly, there's no pleasing you Fereldans."  
"I'm already thinking about them right now." Aldanon said with a heavily ironic voice. "And yes I did want to be king. But then six months at Anora's side completely changed all that, I was content to remain where I was."  
"Aldanon, perhaps we can settle this matter about being king, and Anora's death later?" Wynne broached over the rest the group with a slightly calmed manner. When she came forth, Aldanon became sombre and apologetic.  
"Wynne, I owe you an apology for my shouting at you, you were exhausted and it was uncalled for. I am sorry."  
"Don't mention it, I already know you're sorry" she said in her usual gentle manner, which suddenly flushed with joy. "But come, there's someone who wants to see you." Aldanon looked at her in confusion, but then the memory stuck him; Leliana. He followed Wynne hurriedly to the furthest part of the temporary camp, the notion of meeting Leliana again made his stomach somersault and shake about. And then, he beheld her. She was lying on a bed of wolf and rabbit pelts provided by Elanea, and was being nuzzled by Schmooples and Max. When he saw her in full, and not in the thick of battle for the first time, he convinced himself he was a fool to have ignored her beauty at first. Of course, her time in Val Royeaux was an opportunity to shrug off the features that came to her in Ferelden and embrace Orlesian ideals of beauty; longer, redder hair, skin with a stronger tint of gold, her light features emanating a sweet grace. Seeing this undeniably beautiful sight sent Aldanon's heart racing, he was indeed nervous to see her again in spite of his usual boldness, he felt like Alistair with a lady companion. Wynne hid her amusement at his shyness, an abashed look from Aldanon kept her from chuckling.  
"Come now, Aldanon, are you not excited to see her again?" she teased him, but Aldanon had already stepped down next to Leliana's sleeping form and taken off his gauntlets, gently lifting her head up. Slowly and sleepily her eyes came open, she raised her hand to her head to gently feel it. At first she couldn't quite believe the world around her, like she was in the Fade. But the contrast of things both fair and foul ended that. She was back.

And then, Leliana's eyes met Aldanon's. As if the Maker himself was watching over them, the Sun burst through the clouds over the city, in spite of the battle to the west. The foul wind from the west turned from bitter cold to pleasantly cool and carried natural freshness across the city, a respite from the heat of battle and fire. All caught beneath the sun were restored in hope and belief that good could triumph. The result of this herald of the Maker, Leliana's fair skin shone with unparalleled brilliance and life, her deep, insightful blue eyes radiated a heavenly grace and sparkled with a rising joy, and her flowing scarlet hair glowed in the light. Aldanon was caught under the Sun as well, his dark brown hair now appeared rich and deep, and in spite of his recent battle and the poor condition he was in, he conveyed a kingly might that Leliana had never seen in him before. For a while they remained silent, fully transfixed by each other, and the others held silent and contemplative witness.  
"It's fantastic to see you again, Leli." Aldanon blurted out unexpectedly, quickly biting his lip to silence himself.  
"Aldanon... I -" Leliana tried to say after a while, when a familiar snuffling sound reached her ears. It was Schmooples; the nug clambered onto her and nuzzled her lovingly, she took the nug in her arms and sat up. "You saved me and Schmooples from Marjolaine." she said in a quiet voice ardent with gratitude. His cheeks flushed as he tried to search for the appropriate words which reflected him justly, but all of the sudden she'd thrust herself into his arms. He smiled as this new feeling of her warmth and affection surged through him.  
"Don't mention it." he said modestly, they swayed as their embrace endured. All of the sudden, she started laughing lightly and quietly, the effect of her soft, lyrical voice made all the world seem that much more pleasant. Aldanon had discovered something that wasn't there before. Before anything else could happen, Aldanon's eyes opened, in the distance there was a pitch-black raven in the clearing sky. It's intelligent eyes locked held an anger in them. Suddenly all inside him turned cold. He knew what this meant; it was Morrigan.


	30. Breaking the Siege

**Breaking the Siege**

The appearance of the raven triggered Aldanon's memory of what Morrigan told him in the Fade; the Great Wyrm was on it's way to Val Royeaux. And worse still, he had no idea how the darkspawn attack was going, they could be within the walls of the city. His face froze in fear and horror, so much so that he forgot Leliana was still in his arms, and in response she felt his sudden fear and pulled herself away to see what was wrong and try and read Aldanon's thoughts. Seeing his realization, her face lost all joy, and fell into a mask of confusion.  
"Aldanon, I thought you were dead and... Aldanon, what's wrong?" she said as his face remained petrified.  
"Leli, I have to go." he said quickly, getting up from their embrace and spoke sternly. "The darkspawn are still a threat to the city, I can't stay here, even if it's with you." he softened his voice at the thought of her. "But I have got to do my duty, a duty that should have been done so much earlier. I'm sorry" but she still looked at him in despair and grief as he gently pulled his arms away, his face clouded by the bitterness of duty in the face of love.  
"If you are going to face the darkspawn, then let me join you. I'm not about to let you out of my sight" she said with mustering courage, rose up and took his hands. Before Aldanon could break a smile at her courage, she groaned in pain and clasped her stomach; Aldanon tried to help her, but Wynne stilled his actions.

"Leliana is still recovering from the effects of the sleep spell, she's too vulnerable as she is."she explained as she helped Leliana to relax on the fur bed. "I also had to use a lot of healing magic to undo most of the effects of Marjolaine's mutilations, I will remain here to tend to her. You will have to go to the battle." Aldanon's reluctance to leave her was burning through his damaged armour. Urgency dictated that he should have left immediately, but his armour was still in ruins. So he looked to the lightly damaged Armour of Diligence.  
"Ser Perth, Durin," he called to the two nearest warriors. "We need to leave to join the battle soon, but I can't fight safely in the armour I'm in, it's too badly damaged. Help me equip the Armour of Diligence." both of them helped him to equip it as fast as possible, while Wynne explained the situation to the others and the whole story of the chaos unfolded to Aldanon. While the circumstances were being explained, a company of wayward chevaliers recognised Tremir, and by his word they knelt in respect before Aldanon and joined his company.

++++++++++++

As soon as Aldanon was ready, his broken Golden Armour safely taken off, Leliana falling asleep, and the elven baby sleeping in Wynne's hands, he called all his companions, wardens and knights and chevaliers together.  
"My friends, you have all gone through the heart of darkness itself to see that I would be liberated from the machinations of Marjolaine's evil," Aldanon spoke out with a powerful voice like thundering waterfalls, "a debt I promise to repay with all my power when I can. But the battle for Val Royeaux and all Orlais has not ended. The Darkpsawn Attack, which we were all meant to fight, continues. I know not how the battle goes for our friends who still defend and die defending this great city, but no more! Let us not delay any longer! Let us rejoin our brothers and sisters! Let us charge to battle and victory!" the gathered participants in the battle cheered in chorus of high approval. "We will lay the darkspawn low, for though we may be few in number, our hearts are proven! Even those who cannot join us are valiant still." he said in a lowered, respectful tone and nodded to Wynne and Leliana who smiled in appreciation. He drew Starfang and signalled west "This day, the darkness sunders_. For Ferelden! For Orlais! For the Grey Wardens!_" each one of the respective groups shouted in approving chorus and drew their weapons. Aldanon leapt from the stone from which he spoke, drew and sounded his horn, and sallied forth. The Warden's company charged to battle.

++++++++++++

The sound of the charge spread across the city. At first, disunited soldiers and mages mistook them for another enemy force from within the city, but the flying heralds and trumpeting declarations reversed the fear. They recognised General Tremir and many of their chevalier heroes, but it was the unmistakable sight of Aldanon leading the charge that set everything into motion. It put the word of Duke d'Aubrac into question, and if Aldanon had come back from the dead, the Maker must have decreed Aldanon innocent. Inspiration to join the charge rose in the hearts of men, and numbers swelled from a meagre one hundred to over a thousand from all walks of sword arms; waylaid soldiers and chevaliers, fortunate templars, late coming reinforcements from the neighbouring provinces, neutral adventurers, nobles and their men, and a valiant commoners willing to lend a sword. This was a fight to save their city. Already, they had encountered smaller groups of darkspawn that infiltrated the city, after being swiftly put down, the army continued. The arrival at the western quarter of the city shocked all who beheld it. The entire district was burning, every house, building and garden, so much smoke billowed up that the sky was blackened, towers lay crumbled and alight, all that was grey or white had blackened from fire. The walls stood reduced to tall piles of rubble from ogre fists, emissary and catapult fire, and the gates were laid to rubble, the darkspawn had long since poured into the region. The iron-wrought gates were sealed and from within, pockets of men resisted the darkspawn, but so many more lay dead. Aldanon drew his horn and issued the army to charge. The walls were cast down and the rallied defenders met their foe with drawn blades.

++++++++++++

The darkspawn were caught by surprise. The charging assembled warriors came down upon them with such unstoppable rage, many of the weaker ones fell back in fear. With Aldanon and his companions, old and new, leading the charge, the first darkspawn were cut down in their wake. For the enemy, the invasion turned to a bloodbath, having been tested and tried during the initial siege, they expected resistance to be weaker, as if they were depending on another aiding force. Of the defenders, all but the least brave or skilled brought sweeping defeat to the groups of darkspawn, for their courage was renewed. In the charge, isolated groups of soldiers were liberated from the blades of the enemy, or freed from imprisonment in the buildings, thus bolstering the numbers of the renewed defenders. But the most important warriors they hoped to find on the battlefield were the Grey wardens and Commander Charles. Standing in formation ahead of the advancing vanguard was a battalion of thinned out yet valiant warriors holding the outer rim of the battalion, humans, elves and dwarves, all clad in steel, red steel or silverite heavy chainmail and plate armour, with a few archers and mages stationed in the middle of this impressive unit. If there was any doubt as to who they were, the tattered, bloodied, but still visible griffon banner could be seen flying in the wind.

Seeing this Aldanon raised his sword and yelled out for the darkspawn to see as his followers broke the opposition's charge and freed the Orlesian Wardens from being overwhelmed. The breaking of the darkspawn whom the wardens themselves faced was brief and brutal, but triumphant. Aldanon unleashed his rage upon them alongside Oghren, his wrath was enough to stop an ogre in it's steps, so much that Oghren was impressed that he had not wasted his berserker teaching on Aldanon. Zevran, Geoffrey and Durin fought jointly to free men from darkspawn with tactical interventions. Osecar raised a blizzard and a tempest of lightning that halted the darkspawn advance, even applied minor healing spells to soldiers near death. Elanea's had marshalled the archers and formed a firing squad. Nevertheless, the casualties inflicted on the wardens were extreme, nearly a hundred had been slain. So far, there was no sign of Charles, none of the wardens knew where he was. As he paused between fights, Aldanon wanted to know why the chevaliers did not come in time. His exhaustion from the previous fights was only briefly sated, and his lack of his armour left him exercising caution more than he was used to. As the darkspawn numbers in the city began to thin, Durin and Oghren found themselves in thick competition again. The dwarves' actions were strictly competitive, but their reckless contest was scattering darkspawn in their wake.  
"So, you've decided to pitch in have you?" Durin taunted Oghren as he cut an alpha down "Ditched the alcohol?"  
"Let me tell you something, Durin," Oghren chided his rival, as he disarmed an emissary, literally "if you weren't so high and mighty, you would not have been cast into the Deep Roads. You were lucky to find the Legion" Durin scowled aggressively, and raised his war axe to knock Oghren senseless, but Oghren arced his axe at him, he ducked in surprise and raised his round shield, Oghren's axe cleanly decapitated another Hurlock alpha.  
"That is a story for another time, Oghren" Durin grunted in restrained temper, but resumed his slaughter.

++++++++++++

Aldanon was in the heat of a duel with a shriek, it's harsh cries stinging his ears. But with a thrust of his shield, it was knocked down, leaving him room to sink his blade into it. Across the city, he could see an Ogre Alpha wreaking havoc on a group of templars. He charged to aid them, when suddenly another man dashed straight into him, knocking both of them over simultaneously. The man picked himself up and gaped wide when he saw him  
"Aldanon? Is it really you!" Alistair exclaimed in joy, looking down on Aldanon as he nursed his head, took his friend up in his arms and hugged him so hard Aldanon was winded. "Andraste's ass, am I glad to see you!"  
"Alistair! Thank the Maker!" Aldanon cried through heavy panting and relieved himself from his friend's grip, "How did you get here? How long were you here? Is anyone else with you?" he queried rapidly.  
"We only just arrived by ship." Fergus Cousland said behind Aldanon, he turned about, stunned at this sheer chance encounter and lost for words, but Fergus completed the motion with a quick embrace with his brother.  
"You haven't received a blow to the head, Aldanon?" Fergus teased as Aldanon's gaping mouth turned to a smile.  
"Fergus! Alistair!" Aldanon shouted as they beamed, unaware of the gathering lightning chain from a hurlock emissary. The two new men spun about and knocked it back with a single blast of both their shield; Aldanon joined them with Starfang drawn, and with his brother and his friend, all three sunk their blades into the monster.  
"I am relieved that you have come, Fergus," Aldanon said cordially, "But are you on your own?" Fergus laughed.  
"I brought five hundred Highever soldiers aboard my ship, as soon as we saw the battle, we went for the onset."  
With the reinforcing army, the darkspawn within bounds of the city were quickly dissipating, soon it would be time to go forth and end the enemy directly. The presence of Highever's men explained Aldanon's army's surprising success against the darkspawn and the several scattered groups of surviving soldiers, many with the Cousland crest. Atop an errant horse, Aldanon mustered all soldiers and wardens to the gate, signalling to prepare to advance. But a new and worrying sight halted him and his confidence. A strange and heavily armoured darkspawn, resembling a hurlock with a more intellect and will than the other of it's kind, moved ahead of a larger darkspawn army, one that looked more fiercely equipped and armed than the ones he encountered in the city, and joined by beasts like ogres, blight wolves and even shrieks. Before Aldanon could order a tactical regroup and rejoin the army, a swarm of genlock assassins jumped from the wall over the gate and held him back at bow point. The darkspawn, the Discpile, stepped forth, maintaining a strange composure.  
"So, you survived the Duke's coup." it said in a guttural voice. "We let him pass after we noticed his actions were a boon to our assault. When he left the city, most of the chevaliers left with him, the others charged to their deaths. Only the blindest of men ignore us." it admitted in an aloof manner. Aldanon remained undaunted.  
"Your kind never stop to chat. Frankly, I like it that way, saves us a lot of guilt when we destroy your kind." he said back at the Disciple sternly, and kept his guard up. "What else am I to know before you tempt your fate?"  
"Other than your arrogance will befall you, I am known as The Warlord, first Disciple to the Architect and foe of the Grey Wardens, tasked with the purpose of defeating the Grey Warden bastion here. So far, victory is nigh."  
"We'll see about that." Aldanon challenged The Warlord, "Now, my friends! _Attack_!"

Before the genlock assassins could launch their arrows, Osecar had frozen them in place, and allowed the warriors to hack their frozen forms to icy fragments. Aldanon let his horse retreat back into the city, ahead of him The Warlord and the darkspawn charged. He was not prepared for The Warlord's fighting prowess, Fergus' closest soldiers' chests were split across from the Disciples giant, spiked flail. Aldanon was lucky to completely block another swing, but not luck enough to stand his ground. Alistair, Fergus and Geoffrey attempted to force The Warlord against the wall in order to yo overwhelm it; but it's agility saved it, it wheeled around and arced it's flail, sending the three men careering into more darkspawn. Zevran tried to flank it, but before he could raise his dagger, a rapid flail movement sent both his daggers flying out of his hands. Durin and Oghren fared slightly better, their combined berserk rages pushed the Disciple back, until it's flail locked with Oghren's axe, and hurled him into Durin. Even as The Warlord was engaged with just one fighter, others would try to strike it, but in vain; for The Warlord's armour seemed to be unharmed or slightly dented by their blows, as if it's armour was made of sterner stuff, a metal forged in the pits of a volcano. Only the strongest blades with certain signs of enchantment could damage it. Just as it's red eyes focused on Aldanon and the two foes readied to duel, a tumultuous roar pierced the sound of the battle. The Great Wyrm had arrived. The Warlord left Aldanon to face the new foe

++++++++++++

Due to most of the army defending the gate from the second wave of darkspawn, it was Elanea who spotted the arrival of the Great Wyrm. Upon locking eyes on the dragon, she dropped her bow and froze on the spot, soaking in it's terrible size. She had never seen a dragon before, but tales from her clan's elder always terrified her as a child. Even some of the darkspawn stopped fighting as the dragon raged across the valley. At first, the creature could be seen from the furthest reaches of the coast, raising it's great, green head above the waves, it's roars piercing the very sky like an arrow. It raised it's forelegs and pulled itself out of the water and onto the coast, once safely on land it thrusted forward in a charge. As it ran, it became visible as a growing, green, towering leviathan blasting fire. The Wyrm thundered across the land on four long legs that strode across the land, leaving a trail of destruction; upturned ships, smashed houses, and flattened fields. It's deafening roars caught the attention of the darkspawn; at first they reacted in confusion and frustration, but the creature's hostility towards all darkspawn in it's path forced them into action. The horde's archers let loose their arrows, but the Wyrm's armoured skin simply deflected them. The emissaries loosed their spells, this was more effective, but not enough to halt it's charge. It was seconds away from hitting the greater horde, rows of their crude pikes formed. It halted, reared up and inhaled, and unleashed a jet of fire; reducing the pikes to charred heaps of waste metal.

In panic, rage and desperation for victory, the darkspawn turned about and attacked. But the Wyrm lunged through the horde, and the darkspawn beneath his claws and knocked over by his crushing jaws. In battle, he was nigh unstoppable, rending entire clusters lesser hurlocks and genlocks lifeless with each swipe of it's tail and claws, and leaving the alphas hard-pressed and the emissaries unnerved. The ogres sought to group together and force the the Wyrm back with brute force; but in their craving to fight, the Wyrm resorted to sharper weapons than sheer strength and sunk his vice-like jaws into the robust body of an ogre, and crushed it's skeleton. The Warlord attempted to gather his forces, assembling all darkspawn alphas, emissaries, and most direly; the armoured ogre vanguard. The Wyrm noticed The Warlord and what it was ordering the horde to do, and unleashed another surge of fire, killing several but merely maiming the stronger ones. The Warlord stepped forward to challenge him.

++++++++++++

With the horde's retreat from the gate, this was the opportunity Aldanon had hoped for. He raised his sword and shouted out for the army to hear; the charge was sounded. Only a few darkspawn had remained to watch the renewed army, but more and more were being drawn to battle the immense dragon. At the head of this advance column, Aldanon was at the head; with Alistair and Fergus to his right and left. Fergus' military expertise and Alistair's rousing words inspired the soldiers to new levels of zeal and ability, drawing darkspawn unwillingly towards their blades. Geoffrey had mustered the warrior wardens and wove their force through the gaps between the droves of darkspawn. Durin and Oghren, known for unlikely strategists, actively directed the battalions of men across the field. Osecar had gathered a picket force of mages and directed their fire on the armoured ogres. Wynne made her appearance known when a group of wounded men sprung back into the fight. The mages were joined by Elanea and her archers. The elven warden was caught by surprise when a stunning young woman joined the archers, but gladly accepted her presence when she recognised her; Leliana. From the walls, her arrows flew with pinpoint precision, striking down many a darkspawn that sought to strike Aldanon from behind him as he fought.

The Warlord isolated himself from the dragon; he'd sustained critical tooth wounds and burns to him and his armour. Geoffrey, seeing the plighted darkspawn general, rushed through the host, his blade pierced their armour and his shield knocking them senseless, until he reached the Disciple. He plunged his blade into The Warlord, through a weak point in it's armour; it roared and swerved around but Geoffrey remained firmly attached. It's flail thrashed to search for him, but merely struck more of it's kind. He wrenched the blade out of it's body and plunged it through The Warlord's mouth; the force knocked it clean off it's feet and onto the ground. Seeing their general felled and their numbers thinned by both man and beast, the horde began to scatter.

++++++++++++

Everything that was under The Warlord's command was obliterated, either by fear, dragon fire or by sword. As the darkspawn retreated, the soldiers deigned to pursue and destroy. By Aldanon's order, the southern part of the battlefield was forbidden, for the Great Wyrm was still in battle. The clouds over the battle broke and the sun burst through; in sheer, blind and utter panic as lesser darkspawn fell away, the stronger ones, ogres and alphas, turned on all things living; human or darkspawn, only die of exhaustion or the weapons of soldiers. The hosts of darkspawn were now completely scattered. The generals called the army to halt, but Aldanon feared that even then the battle was not ended. The Great Wyrm, though battered and wounded, still lived. The darkspawn that carried the most grievous of wounds were his victims, _Darksbane_, Aldanon thought, as a fitting name for this dragon who had spelled doom for the darkspawn host, and a name that reflected the potential danger this dragon reflected if his attention turned to human lands.

The Wyrm turned his attention to Aldanon, the figure of his nightmare and the reason he came down from the Frostback Mountains to hunt him down. In hateful rage, he crouched to strike out in speed, but something stilled his move. Above the heads of the army, a winged silhouette blotted out the sun as it flew, earth-trembling roars beating down on the ground. Darksbane recognised the newcomer; a High Dragon. Perhaps she'd moved from other lands or had been hunting further afield, but she did not attack or fly close enough to encourage archer fire. Her regal greyish purple scales glowed in the light of dawn as she stopped, hovering over the Wyrm. As by Morrigan's words, he reared up to see her, but either in ignorance or in search of safer haven, flew on. The Wyrm turned about, starting out for the coast, before looking back at Aldanon, the nemesis of his dream, roared out in vengeance with columns of fire and set for the Waking Sea. Victory. It came as something unexpected to the army, but their joy could not be unabated. Aldanon smiled as the last of the dark pall withered in the light and Darksbane slithered under the waves. _Thank you, Morrigan_.


	31. Next Moves

**The Next Move**

The aftermath of battle is always a bitter one. Aldanon returned to the gate to help lead and organise the relief parties tasked with the aiding of the many warriors and townsfolk who were injured in the battle, and to make sure no one approached the burnt wreck that was Marjolaine's former base. The battlefield outside of the city had been mutilated from verdant farmlands and homesteads to blackened, barren wastelands dotted with charred rubble that was the homesteads and the siege weapons, and covered by the rotting corpses of darkspawn. Upon getting a clear view of the city from the walls, Oghren and Zevran could see the extent of the damage to the city done by the darkspawn. The city was almost unrecognisable; entire buildings were laid bare from fire and sheer force, blazes continued to rage across much of the city, causing smoke to billow into the sky, and the dead within the streets were too many to number. In a surprising turn of events, the Chantry priest permitted the mages to use their spells on injured people, whilst being watched by a lone templar. Much to Zevran's admiration, Wynne vehemently refused to have a templar guard watch over her, and with Aldanon's support. Most of the survivors and refugees of those regions worst effected were were taken to the Grand Cathedral and many other smaller chantries to be given refuge by the priests. From the walls, entire crowds and waves of refugees were sweeping through the streets, their bitter weeping ringing all the way to the walls of the city and the docks.

"To think we came this close to defeat." Zevran said in astonishment, taking in the view "It almost reminds me of Denerim at the end of the Blight, however it's beauty and size makes the loss seem much greater."  
"Aye, Val Royeaux is a fine city," he said calmly but grew bristly, "even if their ladies aren't!" he added huffily, Zevran smiled in private amusement. "Still, I can't help but hope we can help as many people as possible."  
"This certainly isn't over," Zevran said with a growing indignation, "Those who were responsible for allowing such a disaster should be made to pay. With that in mind, it puts into question what our next move is."  
"You mean after we're done cleaning up here?" Oghren asked, the elven assassin nodded. "I would assume, try to get back to wherever Aldanon and Anora were in the whole politics thing, that is if Celene is still alive." The pair rested their backs against the wall, wiping beads of sweat off their brows and breathing heavily from fatigue.  
"There are entire regiments of men, both Fereldans and Orlesians working round the clock to put down the fires and get people to every possible refuge." Oghren commented, "Aldanon even managed to convince the nobles of the city to allow refugees to be provided in their homes! Not bad, eh?" Zevran nodded wearily but with gladness.  
"Zevran, Oghren! Better hurry," Elanea's voice came rapidly across to them as she ran, an urgent, troubled look on her face, "It's Commander Charles. He hasn't got long."

Warden-Commander Charles lay with his back against the charred ruins of a building, his dragonbone armour pierced by many darkspawn blades and patched by red-stained cloths, his bearded face completely drained of strength and purpose with his wounds. He'd been knocked unconscious from The Warlord's flail when it entered the gates, but retreated when the wardens assaulted it when the rest of it's retinue were slain. The grey wardens who found him said that while they tried to make him rest he was hearing strange noises in his head, as if something were calling to him in his mind. When they tried to heal him, he refused their aid and told them that his time had come either way. His nightmares had strengthened, it was the Calling. When Aldanon saw the dying Warden, he stopped in his tracks, dropping his sword on the ground limply as he stepped over to the crowd of assembled mourning wardens. They broke apart and allowed him to kneel close to their commander, who had been both a kind and a firm voice for all wardens.

"Commander?" Aldanon said hoarsely; Charles stirred slightly and looked up at Aldanon with eased eyes.  
"Aldanon," he began brokenly, "the wardens tell me you've won this battle for us, even though the situation was dire and nearly lost for us." he slowly raised his and and rested it in Aldanon's. "I owe you my thanks."  
"Well, I had loads of help from Geoffrey, Osecar, Durin, Elanea and Argeles – Maker rest his soul. They were all fantastic and I owe them much. But Sir, I'm the reason the battle was nearly lost," Aldanon said morosely, "had I not left, we would have had a sweeping victory on the field. Had I not fallen for the Duke's trap, I -"  
"That's not true and you know it, Aldanon" Geoffrey said firmly, clasping his shoulder, "If we weren't there, the darkspawn from the tunnels would have flanked us and they would have overrun the city."  
"None of what has happened matters now," Charles' weakening voice rung over their argument. "We have victory where we may not have." suddenly he gritted his teeth and groaned in pain, "My time with you is short, my wardens. Before I depart, I name Geoffrey Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens of Orlais." Geoffrey knelt before Charles, and the elder warden untied a silver brooch – the Chain of Command – the symbol of the Orlesian Wardens' authority. "For any wrongs Aldanon may have done before or during the battle, I pardon them all. For he has loyalties that extend beyond the Wardens, he is as much a king as a warden. And now the enemy is gone, he has one final duty in Orlais; save Empress Celene from d'Aubrac." Aldanon nodded in understanding.  
"Thank you, Charles. I really cannot thank you enough." Charles smiled and laid his hand on Aldanon's shoulder.  
"I'm sure the Grey Wardens will be proud to have you. May the Maker watch over you." he said in length.  
"But where is d'Aubrac's Castle? Charles?" Aldanon asked him, not willing to let him pass. But Charles did not speak again. He was completely motionless as his hand dropped slowly to the ground. The solemn wardens lowered their heads, and a few gave way to tears. He stepped back from Charles' silent form, memories of the old warden clinging to him; of his sense of duty and loyalty to all wardens within his knowledge. There was a stronger sense of justice to the destruction of the darkspawn, much like how Alistair felt about Denerim's victory.  
"Aldanon," Alistair's urgent voice came as a disturbance to the sombreness. "It's Arl Eamon, he's landed."  
"Alright, but before we go, there's quite a lot I need to tell you. It's of the utmost importance."

Aldanon followed Alistair's lead away from the wardens with reluctance. It was more than wanting to be there for Charles' cremation. He'd been with them long enough to be considered one of their own, so he hoped, but he felt charged to continue his duty to the wardens in whatever manner Geoffrey ordered. But he had to be prepared displace himself from that, Alistar left his post as Warden Commander of Ferelden so that he could help him. What would prove to be more imperative; the Wardens or the political bond between Ferelden and Orlais? Whilst they walked, he explained to him of how Anora led the knights to him whilst he dealt battle with Marjolaine's forces, and Alistair became impressed and envious all at once; he was surprised by Anora's actions but wished to have been with Aldanon. After asking where Anora was, he learned the dire truth and her decision to let Aldanon succeed her.

"Maker's breath." He said sadly and slowly, "I never would have thought Anora would be capable of leading the knights to battle to save you. You must have really been a bright spark in her life." he laid his hand on Aldanon's shoulder. Aldanon smiled at his friend's comforting words and seeing his hatred for Anora dissipate. When they reached the docks, Aldanon could see a vast fleet of nearly twenty ships cruising slowly into view, and all that remained of the Ferelden Knights that boarded the Sea Dragon on her voyage to Val Royeaux. Aldanon wondered how to explain the situation of Anora's death to them, and how to quickly and effectively settle the chain of command without imposing himself or anyone else as regent for the throne. Realistically, his claim to the throne was strong due to having the knights as witnesses to Anora's passing and her testament of succession.  
"Aldanon!" Alistair said sharply, digging his elbow into Aldanon, who jumped abruptly back to reality. "Eamon's ship is about to land. You should probably unfurl your banner, as word that you've survived." to his friend's advice, Aldanon nodded to Ser Perth, who obediently drew Aldanon's royal standard and waved it into the wind.  
"How do we tell them about Anora and the succession to the throne?" Aldanon asked in a puzzled tone.  
"Now that is a good question. I suppose with the knights as witnesses, you are the best candidate for the throne. Myself, I'm certainly not game. I mean, I'm enjoying my duty as a grey warden; this is what I want to do."  
"We'll allow the nobility to decide that; you're still a strong candidate for the throne, even if you don't want it."  
"Wait, are you actually saying you're reluctant to take the throne?" Alistair asked in surprise. "I thought you wanted to claim it." Before Aldanon could explain it to Alistair, the sailor's aboard Eamon's ship barked out orders, and the ship drifted into position, waves of water from the sea licking up into the pier. A horn sounded from the ship, moments later, Eamon's retinue assembled before Aldanon and Alistair. Then Eamon left the ship, he was clad in his dragonbone armour and the rest of his war equipment. On seeing Alistair, his face hardened in frustration, and Alistair shook a bit; but seeing Aldanon, he strode over and warmly clasped his hand, smiling.  
"Alistair, I admit to being rather impressed by your getaway plan with Fergus," he said to Alistair at first, "even if it did cost us time and resources to fix the damage. But Aldanon, it's a blessing from the Maker that you are all right, we all believed you were dead. But I see that the story of what happened here runs deeper than I first thought. First, we must know of Queen Anora and what exactly happened here before we decide our next move."  
"Eamon, I regret to tell you that Queen Anora has died." he said in a slow broken voice, Eamon stepped back in shock, completely lost for words. "She was killed by the true enemy behind this disaster, but she died saving me and my companions from possible death. Before she died, she named me the successor to the throne as king, and I have these good knights as my witnesses." he gestured to Ser Perth and the other knights, who nodded in confirmation of Aldanon's words. "I am reluctant to take the throne, Eamon, but I will if the need arises."

Eamon stared at the water by the pier, thoroughly stunned and unable to believe it, as if Ferelden had fallen.  
"This is possibly the direst news I've heard since you told me of Cailan's death." he said sorrowfully, "I will tell the the other nobles of this disaster, and we will find a way to settle this. I'm afraid your succession will be challenged. But first; what's the situation in Val Royeaux? What do you plan to do and what should my men do?"  
"I understand you will want to put Alistair up for the throne like last time, Eamon." Aldanon said as Alistair jumped to attention at reference of his name. "As for what we must do; last night,Val Royeaux came under attack the city needs hands to help repair most of the damage and protect the city from another possible darkspawn attack." Eamon's face hardened at the mention of the darkspawn. "But the situation is worse than that; Empress Celene has been captured by the treacherous Duke Claude d'Aubrac' who now attempts to seize Celene's power. The city's military is too weak to go after d'Aubrac and needs time to rest. That leaves me and any companions I select responsible from saving her from d'Aubrac's stronghold, northwards along the Imperial Highway; Imperial Keep. The Duke probably has the greater part of Orlais' armies at his castle, but only a few will be truly loyal to him, if he puts his chevaliers to use, you must have your army and any others standing by to aid us if needed."  
"I'm impressed Aldanon." Eamon said with esteem, "You certainly shown yourself to be able enough to deal with these situations, a rather kingly quality." Aldanon smiled. "But we will let the Landsmeet decide that later."  
"Very well, but be prepared to send them northwards if I call for them. I must ask the Grey Wardens what their plans are now, I'll consult the chevaliers here what their next move is, and I'll notify you the moment I've spoken to both of them. Then, we prepare for the march on Imperial Keep." Eamon nodded heedfully.  
"An elaborate and worthy plan, Aldanon" he said, "I will inform the nobles about this at once. Good luck."

General Tremir had established himself at the centre of the district, in exactly the same place where d'Aubrac and Charles placed their camp before the battle. Around him, the several nobles and chevaliers nodded obediently to his commands in Orlesian, which Aldanon had been able to understand, thanks to his education at Highever and his preparations for coming here. Having only seen him in battle, Aldanon did not know what he looked like until now; the man was in his late thirties, had a hazel eyes that complemented his short, brown hair.  
"And I want all your men assembled and ready to march north, we must mobilize as quickly as possible or we risk civil war, understood?" the nobles and officers nodded and left to their men, Tremir turned to Aldanon. "Ah, there you are. I've ordered every man in authority to prepare for the march north. Is there something you want?"  
"I'm impressed you are able to command authority so flawlessly" Aldanon complimented, "I'm curious, is this something chevalier generals can assume in the event of a crisis?" Tremir considered his misunderstanding.  
"I come from a high noble family, Aldanon." he explained, "I am a duke, sir. But my elder sister inherited the duchy and I joined the chevaliers at the age of sixteen, I've had twenty years to rise through the ranks."  
"Impressive, that would explain the authority" Aldanon noted, "But what of our next move? I intend to lead a group of my companions ahead of the army and infiltrate Imperial Keep – it's a speciality of mine."

"We are preparing for a forced march to Imperial Keep with both armies, and we will make the march north tomorrow morning. You don't think that your presence on the battlefield with your men as their king will be more important?" Tremir questioned Aldanon, he paused nervously as he attempted to search for the right words.  
"I know I put myself at risk by putting myself in the heart of the enemy's lands," Aldanon said firmly, "but I have done this before. In fact I may not even succeed the Ferelden throne, the Landsmeet must abide by it."  
"You know, I do sort of agree with Tremir." Alistair casually entered the scene, Aldanon shook his head at his friend's unhelpful contribution. "If you do die, Eamon will put me on the throne and that bodes ill for everyone."  
"Alistair, I'm trying to get Celene out of imprisonment." Aldanon moaned grumpily "I don't think what you said will help us get her out, considering I may find myself far from where I want to be." Alistair glared at him.  
"I'm only saying that you can't be where you risk too much, Aldanon, a lot is resting on your shoulders." Alistair explained in a cooler tone. "let the army deal with d'Aubrac, but as future king this is too dangerous for you."  
Aldanon grew visibly enraged, "You have absolutely no reason or right to impose sanction on me, _Arl_ !" he fumed, Alistair's disgust grew considerably. "I will not be told where I can or cannot be. In fact, I was about to offer you a place in my advance group, but if you want to hold me back, then neither of us can take part in this."  
"Enough!" Tremir boomed over the two men, "Don't let your personal feelings cloud your judgement. We will reach a decision shortly, but if you feel strongly about going at your own will, I have no right to stop you." Aldanon nodded, and budged past Alistair, who continued to stare on, stupefied at his friend's anger.

Before he was able to locate the other Wardens, Aldanon found Leliana near the Grand Cathedral, kneeling before the ruined, defaced statue of Andraste, where many people were mourning it's ruin as a slight to the Andrastian Chantry. Though he thought it irrelevant to all that had happened around them, Aldanon reminded himself that this was the most religious part of Thedas and the home of the Chantry. Her presence made Aldanon feel overjoyed and nervous at the same time, this was different from the way he felt about Morrigan, who made him feel enticed without any natural feelings. He could not tell if she loved him, but he even as closer friends, he felt closer to genuine warmth than before. Before he could come over to her, he saw Wynne in the distance, she waved to him and beckoned him to come to her corner of the road leading away from the Grand Cathedral.

"Ah, Wynne, any news of the situation? Did you bring the elven babe back to her people?" But Wynne shook her head, she was holding the tiny bundle which contained the her and wrapped the cloth over her sleeping head.  
"I tried to take her back to the alienage," Wynne explained earnestly, her voice growing bitter as she remembered the event."but the moment I entered, a gang of of decrepit looking elves attempted to mug me, assuming I was a noble! I used my spells to ward them off and tried to explain that I was just returning her, but they said she was 'just another mouth to feed', I was so appalled and furious that I left them." a tear streaked down her eye as she restrained her anger. "Sorry, I'm still struggling to understand it. These elves are obviously bitterer than the ones who live in Denerim's alienage." Aldanon groaned loudly, only to be hushed by Wynne.  
"This is terrible," Aldanon said in a hushed tone, "The baby simply can't stay with us, it's too dangerous for her."  
Wynne nodded, and considered for a moment. "I understand, but honestly I think she's better off with us."

"Who's better off with us?" Leliana's voice entered their ears with curious interest.  
They spun their heads over to her and she walked over to them and focused her eyes on the bundle in Wynne's hands. Aldanon tried to speak but Wynne gestured him to relax and allowed her to gently place her hands on the bundle, unwrapping the cloths and revealing the sleeping babe within. Upon seeing her, Leliana stilled with wonder, gently placing her hands over her mouth as she slowly gasped, a wide smile growing on her face.  
"Oh my word!" she exclaimed in a joyful breathless voice, "Why, she's beautiful! Oh look at her! Hello, little one." she lightly laid her hands on the babe, whose eyes blinked open and smiled happily, she softly took the baby from Wynne's arms, cradling the babe, smiling, cooing and giggling affectionately and nestling the baby to her as if she were her own child. Aldanon stared, astonished and enraptured, making an effort not to gape. Leliana radiated that familiar warmth and sweetness to her as he looked on, but maternal grace had appeared in her that was difficult to explain, it was so instinctive and at the same time unconditional. Wynne smiled warmly.  
"We haven't been able to bring her back to her people, Leli."Aldanon said in an effort to muster his senses.  
Suddenly, Leliana turned to him. "Can I keep her?" she appealed; the question jump-started Aldanon's heart into racing again. Had she just asked that? "I just want to take care of her, I will be fully responsible for her."

Aldanon sighed. "Yes, you can take care of her." Leliana stared at him at first, then her glowing smile blossomed out. She ran up to him and with her one arm, wrapped it tightly around his neck, and planted a kiss on his cheek.  
"Thank you so much!" she said happily, "I really can't thank you enough!" she released him and returned to cuddling and kissing the elven baby that was now, and very happily, hers, skipping off towards a garden that had been spared by the battle. Aldanon continued to stare in admiration after her; she had so willingly given herself to the obligation of this child where few would have, with each second he felt warmer and warmer each time he found himself near to her. Wynne chuckled heartily and reached to pinch Aldanon's extremely flushed cheeks.  
"Did you just change your mind, Aldanon?" Wynne asked him teasingly, "For Leliana, no less?"  
"It was nescessary." He said shotrly, eager to escape the conversation. "I only did what I had to do. And don't worry, I'll think of something, Maker knows I'll have to!" But Wynne was convinced otherwise.  
"You did that to make Leliana happy!" she beamed, and Aldanon grew redder and nodded reluctantly.  
"Wynne, I need to get back into battle before I grow mellow and fuzzy, and she calls me 'Softie'!" he said in an alarmed voice as he realise how red he had turned and how amused Wynne was. Realising the that the snug feelings had left him flushed and embarrassed, he quickly left the area, only to bump into Alistair – again.  
"I saw your ecstatic expression when Leliana skipped off into the distance." he said, enjoying his friend's embarrassment. Aldanon swallowed hard as his best friend attempted to extract his desired information.  
"Um... Alistair -" Aldanon stammered, "Firstly, I'd like to apologise for my beastly behaviour earlier on."  
"Apology accepted," Alistair said dutifully, but let his joy take over. "But seriously though, go on, tell me! Is it serious? Do you mean to tell me that you love Leliana?" Aldanon stammered and shook a lot before answering.  
"In short; yes. I do like her" he said at length. Alistair laughed and ruffled Aldanon's hair and beat his shoulder.  
"Good for you, mate!" he said, still chuckling. "I hope when this is over, she learns about this!" he ruffled his hair again and left with Wynne_. I seriously need to start fighting again_. Aldanon thought wearily.

New Journeys

Perhaps Aldanon bit off more than he'd bargained for when he wished for a more serious situation. The situation with the Orlesian Wardens was dire, their numbers were reduced to a meagre one hundred from a formidable two hundred, excluding the others stationed in different parts of Orlais. And with Geoffrey positioned as Warden-Commander of Orlais, many senior wardens started objecting to the late Charles' last request and even vying for power amongst themselves, unable to accept a younger man as their leader. Geoffrey addressed these to Aldanon.  
"You must understand that there's nothing I can do to aid you." Geoffrey said flatly to Aldanon's disappointment. "Many of the grey wardens now believe that we've done our part for the Empress and Orlais, now we must focus on rebuilding our numbers. It should not have been such a difficult battle!" his voice rose to a shout.  
"I understand fully, Geoffrey," Aldanon expressed, "but I cannot understand why your men would prefer to stay out of this as opposed to get revenge on the man who allowed so many of our brothers to be slain."  
"Aldanon, we will not be part of this!" Geoffrey flared, "There are still darkspawn out there, we need to learn more about this new enemy, these Disciples. It mentioned an unknown entity; the Architect. We don't know what it is and thus my brothers need this window of opportunity to understand what it is and what danger it poses. Grey Wardens are not supposed to involve themselves in politics, what you and Alistair had to do was an exception." Aldanon considered his friend's words, he could not demand the wardens to step out of their mission against the darkspawn to aid him, but he could not imagine that they would be so bitter as to not help at all.  
"Is there no way you can help my cause?" Aldanon requested, Geoffrey thought for a moment.  
"Very well," he concluded, "I'll send Osecar, Elanea and Durin with you. But I'm afraid our alliance has ended with Charles bestowing command onto me, I cannot come with you." Aldanon nodded understandingly  
"Then I cannot ask for more. Thank you, Geoffrey" he shook the new Warden-Commander's hand firmly.  
"If you insist of going to battle d'Aubrac personally, then your duties to the Wardens are concluded until further notice. But, if more signs of these Disciples appear, or even signs of this Architect, then you must put aside your kingly duties and be there when the time comes, not as king but commander. You understand this, yes?"  
"Of course; you and your brothers have my word as king-regent and as a Grey Warden that I will uphold this agreement and battle these new and dangerous darkspawn." he solemnly swore in oath to Geoffrey, who accepted his brother's word. Behind him, the number of wardens saddling up to ride out from the city was growing; they would soon be ready to ride forth after the darkspawn. A young warden called out to him.  
"I must go, now. Farewell, and good luck, Aldanon." they exchanged mutual expressions of esteem, and Geoffrey turned to his horse, gave Aldanon one last look of respect and with a the trotting of hooves, he had gone beneath the archway of the gate and ahead of the riding wardens.

++++++++++++

"Aldanon, you've either gone too soft or too nuts!" Oghren grunted in aggravation, after learning that he had decided to let Leliana take care of the elven babe. "How do you plan to lead us if your head's in the clouds?"  
Aldanon ignored the dwarf's rant. "I will think of something, Oghren. Just have faith in me, I'm pretty sure Leli realizes she can't follow me into battle and carry a baby." he said calmly, but Oghren simply laughed at his affectionate term for Leliana, much to Wynne's annoyance. Durin, Elanea, Zevran, Alistair and Fergus were also present when he admitted to them that he believed Leliana was the best person to look after the girl.  
"You do realize this is extremely risky business, Al." Alistair said disappointedly. "I understand your growing appreciation for her, but she's just not ready to fight. And you'll be in no state to fight if she's with next you."  
"I spoke to Leliana, and she seems insistent on coming with you despite the fact she now has Aveline. She's not about to leave you, Aldanon." Wynne said in astonishment, but everyone gave her bewildered expressions.  
"I'm sorry, but who exactly is Aveline? And does Aldanon know about her?" Durin asked in confusion.  
"Oh, that's the baby's name. We don't know her real name, so Leliana called her Aveline, after the main character in an Orlesian tale. And yes, Aldanon knows perfectly well who she is, he was the one who saved her."  
"Aldanon, if you do love Leliana, I'm afraid your feelings may be in vain." Fergus told his brother steadily. "Nobles can only marry to others of their status, even from other lands, but Leliana has no noble blood in her."  
"Regardless," Zevran broke in curtly. "our leader should not let his heart govern his head. Least of all now."  
"Look, I am not about to discuss the nature of Aveline or me in front of you ," Aldanon said angrily. "I have to inform Arl Eamon and General Tremir about the plan to move ahead of the army, we will march on d'Aubrac."  
But Alistair was far from convinced. "Aldanon, defeating d'Aubrac won't be an easy task, you need to see that."  
"Alistair, we've just turned the tide of battle on two fronts!" he said defensively, "We will win against him!"  
"Why are you always so negligent about everything?" Alistair shouted as turned on his friend, "This is always what happens with you; you go through the world as though it was your storybook. You're stuck in a dream, and this time no one's going to wake you up other than you. Why don't you just stop being so selfish, and at least accept that your duty won't be easy before you can shirk it!" At first, Aldanon stared numbly in shock at the man whom he respected as a friend, and he likewise, letting the words settle in painfully, he turned red with rage.  
"Alistair, not that you actually bothered to ask, but I care for so much more than myself." Aldanon growled and strode off as far and fast as his legs could carry him away from them. Alistair looked on dismally as he angrily barged through the city. The others stood shocked at Alistair's rant and quietly broke off from each other.

++++++++++++

"Is there something wrong, Aldanon? You seem a rather irate." Eamon asked Aldanon as he sat himself down to confer with the assembled Ferelden nobles. Aldanon made his effort to suppress his anger from the argument. The other nobles; Arl Bryland and Wulff, and Banns Teagan, Sighard, and Alfstanna were concerned that their young commander was in the midst of emotional turmoil, but Aldanon ignored their inquiring looks.  
"Don't worry about me, Eamon. I'll be fine in a moment." Aldanon said in a calmer voice, "Let's just settle this attack on d'Aubrac's stronghold now rather than later. I also trust the nobles now know of the situation?"  
"I've told the nobles of Anora's death, the all moved to settle the succession here rather than at the Landsmeet." Eamon explained to him. "They've decided that your actions here will determine your succession."  
"In that case, let us move on to the strategy." Aldanon said as Tremir drew a map of the city and the surrounding lands, Imperial Keep sat proudly to the north. "d'Aubrac will no doubt be residing within the keep," Tremir explained, "but the scouts report that near two thousand of his chevaliers patrol the surrounding lands every day. Several hundred chevaliers are being summoned to the keep every day from all across the Empire; d'Aubrac must be forcing them to swear fealty to him. Aldanon and a select few will infiltrate the keep, one group will free Celene and get her away from the battlefield, the other will knock out the keep's defences. His group's objective is the Keep's portcullis gate to the south; once it flies open, Arl Eamon's men will charge from cover of the trees and the chevaliers under my command will swerve around the keep to the northern hills, make it look like a routine patrol, and harry his army from behind. To make the ruse look like a patrol, the chevaliers will carry a banner of his house that I found earlier in Palais Royeaux and must signal it to any treacherous chevaliers if they encounter them." the assembled nobles and knights nodded in accord as an achievable plan, but considered that victory was predicated on Aldanon's infiltration mission succeeding; a very high risk.  
"How do you plan on getting into the castle, Aldanon?" asked Eamon; one point Aldanon didn't cover.  
"I'm not entirely certain, but my experiences of Fort Drakon may prove useful in getting in." Aldanon said, remembering his imprisonment in Fort Drakon alongside Alistair, and their escape disguised as soldiers.  
"Remember, once the defences are down, you must signal Eamon's army in the woods to attack." Tremir said to him, "Once the Ferelden army is engaged, my chevaliers will charge from the hills. It depends on you, Aldanon."

++++++++++++

Just as Aldanon readied to mount the horse, a strange sight caught his eye; it was an elderly man with a long argent beard, and short, greying hair and spectacles that often slipped off his eyes. He was clothed in heavy brown robes and a pouch slung across his body which contained curious assortments of scrolls, judging by the occasional pause to nurse his back, he must have been working throughout the day tending to the people of the city. He seemed rather out of place in the midst of the chaos, but his determination showed his commitment to the task. Aldanon left his horse and walked over to the old man, an idea had struck him.  
"Excuse me, sir." the old man didn't hear him at first, "Sir, may I speak with you." he said again louder.  
"What, what, what!" the old man exclaimed in a croaky voice and bustled about. "Oh! Hello." he said amicably. "You must be King Aldanon. My name is Brother Giovanni, scholar of the Grand Cathedral at your service, sir."  
The scholar shook his hand. "In that case, Brother Giovanni," Aldanon said, sitting the elderly scholar on a nearby bench, "I am in need of your assistance. I would like to borrow you from your duties here do do some genealogy research; specifically for Houses of one of the families of nobles who were present in during the time of the Orlesian Occupation, specifically the ones who were known to have employed Fereldan men and women as servants and to find out whether any of those servants bore descendants who may have lived on to this day."  
"I'm afraid I can't allow that, sir." Giovanni said gravely. "Those records hold particularly dark days for Orlais; only the nobility and the scholars are allowed to see them." Aldanon nodded knowingly. "Why must you know?"  
"I have no intention of seeing them myself," he explained to the scholar, "I just want you to see them and if you find something, I would be grateful to know. As for why I want to know, I'm specifically interested in that of the Household of Lady Cecile and one of her maids; a Fereldan woman. I'd like you to find her family tree and who was the man whom she met. A reward in gold will be paid when I return." Giovanni considered Aldanon's words.  
"Well, I suppose there's no harm in looking, and I'm certain that gold could do a lot of good for the poor souls in the city. Very well, as soon as I have some spare time, I will search the records. Good luck, my lord."

++++++++++++

Leliana sat beneath the shade of an oak tree, trying to calm a crying Aveline. She'd guessed the babe was hungry, and managed to acquire a bottle of milk from a cart of relief supplies from the palace with Wynne's help; but though she'd fed her, Aveline was still in discomfort. Though her ability to calm her through use of her sweet voice was of great help, her abilities to care for her properly required a peaceful environment, one that was safe for her. That Aveline survived imprisonment in Marjolaine's caverns good health through Aldanon's deliverance astonished Leliana. The sun was close to setting, and out of the sunlight a mounted, helmed knight rode forth. He was clad in imposing plate amour forged from dragonebone which possessed the signs and trappings of a master smith and the helmet encased his head. On seeing Leliana, the rider stopped his horse and took off his helmet; Leliana could see to her delight that the rider was no mere knight, but Aldanon in his best Dragonbone Armour. In spite of his pleasure seeing her and Aveline, Aldanon had to maintain his seriousness on the battle ahead.  
"We're almost ready to head north for Imperial Keep, I wish you could join us." he said solemnly as his glad feelings from seeing her gave way while he dismounted. "What do you plan to do now, Leli?"  
"I suppose I shall have to stay and look after her, but lately I find there's no other place I want to be than by your side, even in battle." she said in a fond voice, wrapping her hands around his, gently pulling him to sit down, allowing a sleeping Aveline to rest between them, and allowing a smile bloom briefly.  
"You do understand that I only want to protect both you and Aveline from danger." he said quietly, and she nodded in agreement, "You and I have braved danger before, but the battlefield is no place for a baby, I only just managed to get her out of those caves. I know there's no separating you from her." she smiled at his sincerity.  
"It warms my heart to know you care about us both so much," she said warmly, beaming suddenly; "she's almost like a daughter to you." Aldanon chuckled slightly, gently placing his hand on Aveline's forehead.  
"Even if you did decide to come with me, who do you know in the city who could trustfully look after Aveline?" he asked. Leliana looked down at the resting babe, a look of uncertainty drained her fervour.  
"King Aldanon? Who is that with you?" an elderly voice came in from behind him. He turned around to see Brother Giovanni waddling uneasily towards him, Leliana looked up and him and smiled in delighted surprise.  
"Brother Giovanni!" she exclaimed, rushing up to greet the old scholar. "It's so good to see you again!"  
"And you likewise, Leliana!" Giovanni exclaimed as Leliana hugged him tightly. "You look most splendid."  
"Excuse me," Aldanon interposed himself, carrying Aveline uneasily in his armour-clad arms, using all his effort at carefulness not to cause the sleeping child discomfort. "But how exactly do you know Leliana, Giovanni?"  
"I used to be her private tutor when she was just a girl and lived under the roof of Lady Cecile." he explained, "Even when she left Cecile, I knew she could not do anything as atrocious as what Marjolaine framed her of."  
"Then I don't suppose I could impose on you again, Giovanni?" asked Aldanon, presenting Aveline to Giovanni.  
"Well bless my soul, what a fair lass. Congratulations on your daughter and of your marriage, my friends!" at this, Aldanon and Leliana blushed brightly, he shifted a bit in his armour and scratched his head and Leliana's blush was enough to send tiny trickles of sweat down her neck and stumble to find her words.  
"Anyway," Aldanon reasserted, "Aveline is not our daughter per se, but we would be grateful if you were to take care of her, just for a while. I will be riding to battle, and provided Leliana's still interested, I could use her help."  
The swiftness of the assertion struck upon her, but the idea was a welcome one. "Absolutely, without a doubt!"  
"Then it's settled then? By your permission I will take care of the child until you return?" Giovanni asked them, both Aldanon and Leliana nodded in agreement. Leliana handed Aveline gently over to the kindly scholar.  
"Aldanon! Where are you? We need to leave now!" Fergus' voice shouted impatiently out from across the streets.  
"Coming, Fergus!" Aldanon called out and mounted his horse, "We have an agreement, Giovanni. Maker be with you." he shook the scholar's hand, and turned to Leliana, "Perhaps, you would like take my horse?"  
"How could I refuse, my fine warden?" she giggled as he helped her up onto the horse, and rode off to the gate.


	32. In Peace Love

**In Peace, Love**

Against the stars midnight sky and the silver light of the moon, the sight of Imperial Keep against the darkened trees and pastures was a daunting sight for all to behold. The fortress's walls rose high over the thinning tree line and made the road and the silver lit columns of chevaliers marching through the woods seem immeasurably smaller; in the dimmed moonlight, innumerable arrow slits in the walls. It's towers rose even higher, but their design was minuscule compared to the vastness of the walls that surrounded the vast hall; a testament to Orlesian power. Before seeing it, Aldanon and his companions were moving single file through the woods to keep themselves as concealed from trackers as possible. When Alistair first spotted it as he moved ahead of the group, he stopped dead in his tracks and Aldanon bumped right into him. They'd seen great Orlesian castles in books, and they could tell this was perhaps the strongest fortress reserved for the Orlesian military in the entire empire.  
"So, we've got to somehow get into that castle and knock out it's many defences and somehow save Celene, without causing too much disturbance, right?" Alistair asked Aldanon. "How do you propose we do that?"  
"Oh, I'll think of something." he sighed almost premeditatedly, but Alistair looked sharply at him.  
"Hang on! You're just making this up as you go along!" he exclaimed in astonishment.  
"Yep. But I do it well, don't I?" Aldanon said whimsically, Alistair folded his arms and stared at his friend. "I jest, Alistair, I've thought of a plan while we've been riding." he chuckled, Alistair shook his head in bafflement. Aldanon unfurled the map of the castle from his backpack, Osecar drew his staff and ignited a small torch to illuminate the map for they could not risk a camp-fire. Due to their heightened senses and training to locate danger, Zevran and Elanea were stationed in the trees on the outside of the clearing where the group had set camp, close enough to listen but far enough to spot danger; chevaliers are easy to spot in the woods. Back in the clearing, Alistair, Fergus, Leliana, Wynne, Oghren, Durin and Osecar stood around Aldanon and the castle map.  
"Now, we need to get inside the castle, our objectives according to the map are Celene and the Chantry Divine, hopefully located in the dungeons in the castle's East Wing. If a few of us where to enter castle disguised as chevaliers, perhaps myself, Alistair, Fergus and Osecar, we could search the castle for Celene and get her out, there may be a secret passage leading out of the castle, at the same time we cautiously knock out the defences."  
Alistair nodded in agreement,"Maybe so, but what of the others; Oghren, Zevran, Durin and Elanea?"  
"When we come to the castle, we could claim that they were bandits." Osecar suggested, "And we will definitely need extra backup and rogues to disable the defences and an archer to signal Arl Eamon's army to charge."  
"Excellent idea, Osecar." Aldanon complimented him, but the dwarves grunted in disgust at the notion.  
"I have an idea how Wynne and me could get in as well," Leliana said, drawing out a pair of chantry robes. "If we come up to the castle before the rest of us arrive, claiming to be travelling priests seeking rest, the guards should let us in and once inside we can get an idea of the layout of the castle" the others murmured in agreement.  
"Leliana, that's brilliant!" Aldanon exclaimed, she beamed at his hearty compliment. "With more of us inside, we may even take the fight to d'Aubrac himself!" the others cheered in approval, Alistair smiled.  
"Then it sounds like we have a plan." he said conclusively, "We should probably prepare the stag Elanea caught and get some rest, we'll get up and infiltrate Imperial Keep at sunrise." the others nodded and broke off to further corners of the clearing to establish their resting places. Alistair, Fergus and were preparing the tents for the night, though neither of them appeared to be doing well without Wynne's help. Oghren and Durin were skinning the deer they'd caught, but their work quickly dissolved into argument, forcing Osecar to reluctantly take over. Aldanon looked up to find Elanea laying some rabbit pelts on a thick bough of a tree and sleeping upon it like a cat; to his surprise, Zevran had scaled her tree and was welcomed to sit himself down on the same branch. Slightly away from the camp, Schmooples and Max had started fighting over a fallen sheltering tree log, beyond them and sitting in a hollow of a tree by a deep blue pond laden with lilies under the moon was Leliana.

Seeing her had him enraptured once again; her eyes were closed in meditative rest and her brazened skin reflected a glistening quality that seemed almost silvery, and her hair turned a deeper red. That she had isolated herself from the main body of the group was rather odd to him, he was used to turning his attention away from the camp-fire to find Morrigan in her own corner of the camp. But he couldn't blame her, she must have been exhausted from being held as Marjolaine's hostage. Now that he had time to properly think about her, he fondly remembered how she would display her kindness even in some unlikely situations and how she would always try to see the best in everyone, her faith and moralities were a welcome grace to the party and a nice change from some of the others. And then, there was her voice; that smooth, silken soothing voice that could bring a warmth to his heart that Morrigan certainly couldn't; just listening to it captivated him, and closing his eyes to hear it in his head melted his heart. He wanted to come over to her, possibly with the notion of keeping her company; he respected her too much to attempt at flirting with her despite her seeming interest in him. Worse still, his memories of Morrigan held him back like a curse in his mind. In an attempt to drive those thoughts of his former lover away, he looked away from her and his eyes fell on a patch of silver flowers with red centres that sat beneath a beech. He stepped over to them and examined their appearance and scent; they seemed familiar.  
"Andraste's Grace." Elanea's quiet voice caught him by surprise, she smiled at his over-reactive response. "The flower is called Andraste's grace, at least it is by humans." he nodded in thanks for her clarification. _Andraste's Grace, _the name was familiar. He remembered; it was a flower with which Leliana's mother adorned her bedroom to give it a fair scent. He recalled Leliana telling him that it was the one thing that could truly remind her of her mother; he'd thought about presenting her some as a gift but considered the terrible awkwardness it would have posed, for he was already known to have been in a relationship of sorts with Morrigan, much to her discomfort. Looking back on the trouble she used to give them made him feel heavy with regret. But now Leliana seemed more welcoming to his presence, perhaps presenting some of these flowers to her might work.

The party had finished dinner. It turned out to be quite pleasant, everyone was happy to share idle conversation that relieved them of the task of the next day. When Leliana joined them, she sat herself next to Fergus; Aldanon could see them talking and to his surprise it was mostly about him and his young life in Highever. Though he felt slightly left out, he was glad to see her face light up as Fergus would speak kindly of him. The stag was probably the best meal Aldanon had out of doors since, well, ever. Courtesy of Elanea, after all she must have been taught how to hunt and prepare game as a hunter very often. When his original group travelled the lands during the Blight, the task of cooking was interchanged between them, ranging from satisfactory to downright detestable; his cooking often leant towards the latter. Well, not as much as Alistair. When he felt full, he took some of the remnants of the deer to be happily gorged on by his hungry mabari. Leliana had returned to her watch post by the pond, and fell under his gaze once again. Seeing his master so entranced, Max nudged Aldanon forward and gestured towards her with his head, whining encouragingly. He patted his hound on the head in agreement, mustering his courage, he went gently over to the silvery flowers and carefully cut them loose from the ground. He looked over at Leliana to find her drifting into sleep, he quickly bunched the flowers together, suppressed his needles panic_. Come on, Aldanon, you're a warrior, you should be able to walk towards a woman and engage in decent conversation_, he reprimanded to himself. He walked over to her quietly and gently laid them on her lap.  
Feeling the flowers being placed, she stirred to life. "Flowers? For me? They're beautiful!" she gasped in joy.  
He smiled at her gratified reaction and gestured to them. "Smell them." She took inhaled scent and realised.  
"These were - these were her favourite…" her breath was completely taken away, and her eyes swam with pleasant memory. "Oh, I haven't seen these in such a long time! They smell just like Mother used to." Aldanon smiled happily as his eyes observed her joyous reaction, she was completely touched."Thank you." she said almost voicelessly "Thank you so much for remembering." she paused as her joy started to drain slightly, "Even if it was for almost a year." This cruel fact stung Aldanon's heart, he feared he'd hurt her feelings and grimaced.  
"Nevertheless, I hope it wasn't too foolish an act?" he asked hopefully, despite his abject expression.  
That quickly melted when she pulled him into her arms. "Not one bit." she whispered in his ear. He shifted gently next to her and remained in each other's warm company.

They sat together beneath the tree by the pond observing the stars for while. In particular, the one of Alindra's constellation; she was impressed that he recognised it. In turn, Leliana related a story to him that he'd never heard when she travelled with him in Ferelden; the Tale of Alindra and her Soldier. As he listened, he understood the sad theme of the maiden Alindra's enduring love for a common soldier that was forbidden by her father, so much so that she was imprisoned in a tower, but it was so strong that it moved the gods and allowed her to join her love in the heavens and in the stars when she died of broken heart after her soldier had fallen in battle.  
At the end of the story, Aldanon sat in amazement at her storytelling and the tale itself. "What a beautiful story," he murmured, soaking it in. "A sad one but nonetheless beautiful one."she beamed genially at his honest voice  
"This story is one of my favourites," she explained to him, "a tale of a love so great and so enduring that it defies death, and moves the gods to action. Sometimes I ask myself, does such a love exist? Can it exist?" The question piqued Aldanon's curiosity, he'd never known such a love as she had described, certainly not with Morrigan  
But in spite of her, he would never abandon those ideals. "If we lose hope in love, then we are truly lost."  
His reply astonished her pleasantly. "I never expected you to say that. It is – a pleasant surprise."  
He admitted himself not to be the most sentimental of men, but he was curious. "Why is it a surprise?"  
"I have to say there is a certain severity to you. Finding a person behind that all is nice." she explained sincerely but sweetly. She wasn't wrong; his warrior nature pushed him towards those characteristics. "Maybe you should let your softer side show more often. Sometimes following your heart, not your head, leads you to remarkable places." He smiled for a moment, evaluating her words. But Morrigan had invaded his mind again. That was his failure; he'd followed his heart after Morrigan and all that lead him to was despair and grief.  
He could not help but speak his mind; "The last time I did that, I was dashed of hopes; Morrigan still left me." he mumbled, he lowered his head in shame rather than grief, he'd slipped up. But Leliana looked dolefully at him.  
"That was her fault," she said firmly, "What she did was wrong and you did not deserve to have been left in the dark after all you did for her." Aldanon nodded. She placed his hand on his head, rubbing it gently as they stared.

"Is it me or does this camp mirror the one we used to have in Ferelden?" Aldanon said out of the blue. Leliana pondered his words for a moment, but Aldanon put his hand over his face, it was not what he wanted to say.  
But she nodded in agreement, "It is similar, yes." she agreed. "It reminds me of the times when we would spend nights watching over the others. I enjoyed the nights at camp, the night always seemed peaceful to me...safer." Aldanon mulled her words, experience showed him that they were safer at night where they were together, perhaps she was right. "I know what you mean," he agreed, "We are always there to watch over each other."  
He wanted to elaborate, but she'd completed him. "I feel the night grants us a reprieve from the troubles of the day. Silly, isn't it? The darkspawn never sleep and d'Aubrac sends patrols of chevaliers out every hour."  
"It's not silly to seek moments to lay down your burdens." he said thoughtfully and looked into her curious eyes, "We all travelled through similar paths to come where we are now, even our new friends. This quest may not be as terrible as the Blight, but it's consequences should we fail are terrible. It's a relief to me that I can allow time to clear my mind of those thoughts, but I will never forget my duty." she continued to gaze into him, and Aldanon had trouble discerning what she was thinking. Did she approve? Her soft words confirmed this.  
"Your dedication was always impressive to me, and you always considered how I felt at hard times." she said.  
"What else could I be if I could not care for my friends?" he asked rhetorically but she shook her head  
"Don't talk like that, you're a good man, Aldanon. Someone with honourable character." she told him firmly but kindly. He glanced at her, taken aback, but a wide, sincere smile grew on his face and she returned it cheerfully.  
After a moment's silence she spoke again. "I used to enjoy the nights when we would watch together, talking to pass the time in those small hours...well, I would talk and you would listen mostly." Aldanon took his gaze from the stars and settled on her in surprise. His thoughts raced as he tried to chose his next words well.  
Fighting all impulses and taking his time. "I liked to listen to your voice. You were and are still not only a wonderful story teller but also a gentle and caring companion." he said at length, hoping he'd chosen well.  
The radiant beam on Leliana's face confirmed this as she laid his hand on his. "But there were times when I fell asleep and wake to find you still watchful and I knew you were watching out for me." Aldanon's heart started racing, the tenderness of her voice made him feel soft again. "Even now, after all this time, you still care for me." Aldanon looked at her inquiringly. "You went alone to Marjolaine's lair in the hopes you could have saved me."  
He sighed, he'd hoped she hadn't learnt. "You must have thought me a confounded moron." he said glumly.  
"A moron?" she cried in shock, but turned earnest "Aldanon, I'm touched! You were willing to risk your life for me, even when you knew the danger could have been too great. And now, here you sit as my saviour." Aldanon turned bright red and looked bashfully about, but couldn't help but smile again at her sincerity and gratitude, placing his hand on hers and breathing lightly as she wove her hand through his well-kept hair.  
He mustered his senses, "With Marjolaine gone, you never have to feel afraid with me." he said warmly. He allowed Leliana to resume, but something had changed. She was more unsettled, he could see it in her voice and expressions as if she did not know what to make of his words and had lost her confidence, almost vulnerable.  
"W-What I'm trying to is... is that I trust you." she stammered softly. Aldanon held his breath in embarrassment, had he said something wrong? "I'm comfortable around you and I know you'll be there when I need you. Just like on that terrible night when all I cherished was nearly destroyed." the thought of what Marjolaine did nearly pushed her to tears, but Aldanon gently took her hand and laid it in both of his in an effort to comfort her. He could feel a slight, nervous chill in her hand and stroked it lightly to sooth her, her smooth skin spellbinding him.  
"I will always be here for you," he said consolingly, trying to look her in the eye. "I will be more than just a leader- "  
"Yes, yeas your are our leader and my friend and -" she chimed in falteringly, "you where their in my darkest hour and you gave me new purpose in life though Aveline when I feared my vengeance would lead to nothing. Now that this ordeal is nearly over, I wonder if that m-maybe we could be more than that..." His organs somersaulted. Did she actually just say that? Surely he was hearing things. She knew about him and Morrigan during the Blight, and he'd remembered her disappointment at the idea and the hurt expression she'd given him after he'd slept with Morrigan for the first time stayed in his head. Had Leliana truly forgiven him? His eyes fixed on her in a mixture of bewilderment and amazement, but this made her blush incandescently.  
She took her hand away from his grasp and stifled a small chuckle, "Maker... look at me stumbling over my words like some ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am..." even in the shade of the tree and the dark of night, her cheeks were so flushed she seemed hot to the touch. She was clearly embarrassed about something.  
In a surge of cheekiness, he grinned mischievously "You know, you are quite cute when you're embarrassed."  
"I'm not embarrassed!" Leliana defied him, briefly looking about and saw the distant camp fire. "I'm just... flushed because... of the... heat!" _Of course you are! _He restrained urge to laugh or smile.  
In his effort to return to seriousness, whatever it was obviously escaped him because he could not stop what was about to be blurted out in an earnest voice; "Ever since Morrigan left me, I've yearned that we may be more than what we were during the Blight." He tightened his lips as Leliana's eyes widened and mouth gaped open.  
"Really? You – you felt the same way and didn't do me the courtesy of informing me?" she said disbelievingly. _Well done, you nitwit,_ Aldanon reprimanded himself again. He'd said something wrong for sure. He wanted to say 'Well, technically I have informed you' but knew how annoying that would sound. Even when flustered or stumbling over words, she still seemed soft and sweet. He needed to take action before he lost control. "You – you made me say all those things!" she continued to barrage him, "Why couldn't you have said them first? Oh, you, oh, how very awkward." Aldanon continued to fight the urge to blurt out again, he too was beginning to overheat from all the tension he'd unintentionally caused. The recent affairs and Morrigan's desertion left him yearning to love and know it again, he'd discovered it in Leliana. He needed to counter her indignation with humour; a tactic which often worked, well once with Delilah Howe at least. He needed to act quickly.  
"I know, I'm a terrible person! I really am!" he said jocularly, her critical look died down slightly.  
"Oh, chivalry is so dead, making the woman spill her guts out like that..." she exclaimed._ Honestly, Aldanon, you're the most graceless bumpkin I've ever met,_ she thought. It became clear to him that there was nothing more to say; actions spoke louder than words. He gently placed his hand on her lips to silence her, paced a foot closer, locking the gaze of his green eyes with her blue eyes he carefully leaned forward; and his lips met hers in their first kiss. It was light at first, but both grew more ardent and passionate, her arms wrapped around his neck and felt the warmth of his cheeks, and his head swam in the warm, dynamic feeling this kiss gave him and felt the warmth of her body press against his. He did not want to let go; all Morrigan used to represent to him was gone.  
They relinquished their kiss and Leliana cleared her throat to speak, but her coherency was still missing, "Well... I-I um... hmm... that settles it then." he nodded genially and smiled. She could feel his heart racing from exhilaration, and Aldanon rested against the tree, still holding one arm over her and feeling her warm body snuggling against him.


	33. The Battle of Imperial Keep

**Imperial Keep**

Aldanon lay in his tent, fond memories of last night and Leliana clinging to him like morning due on grass. Though Fergus had planted his tent on rather rough ground, Leliana's voice and warmth were his support during the night. Suddenly something hit the side of his tent, the sharp sound woke him up with a start as he cursed.  
"Aldanon, come out," Fergus said urgently, tapping his sword on the tent. "It's just past sunrise, time to get up."  
Aldanon slowly rolled of his bedroll and crawled out of the tent, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Maker..." he groaned sleepily, he mustered his senses. "Wait, sunrise? We need to get moving. Hold on, where's Leliana?"  
Fergus raised his eyebrow, "She left with Wynne one hour ago to get into the castle, Zevran thinks they got in. But Aldanon, Elanea's gone!" Just as he rubbed the last of his sleep was rubbed out, Aldanon froze on the spot.  
"She's gone?" he shouted, "What- but- when- why? Why would this happen?" he raved in incomprehension.  
"After you went to sleep, a clan of Dalish hunters ambushed us." Alistair explained, "None of us were injured beyond Wynne's magic, but it really was a shock. Elanea was able to get them to start communicating with us-" "The dalish said that we were aligned with d'Aubrac's men," Zevran broke in "she told them that we weren't but they weren't having any of it and told us to leave because we were too close to their camp."  
"After the ambush, she started getting ideas of getting them to join us. We told her it was crazy but she wasn't listening either. I saw her retire to her tree, and when we woke up, she was gone." Osecar joined in.  
"Not even Zevran knows where he is" Fergus concluded. Aldanon mulled their words over despairingly.  
"She must have gone to find them and try to persuade them to join us." he decided, "We cannot wait for her."  
Zevran suddenly turned hotly furious, "We are not leaving her! After all she's done for us, for you, you would leave her?" Aldanon faced him disbelievingly, "You said it yourself, we need everyone there to fight."  
"Zevran, we're loosing too much time." Aldanon said insistently, "We cannot afford to search for her."  
"What if we decided to leave Leliana behind and did not consider your opinion?" he shouted fiercely  
Aldanon's imperative manner became understanding."You truly feel that way about her, don't you?" Zevran's anger melted away. "Why else do you think she left without telling us? I refuse to believe she abandoned us, but these are her people, and would listen to her. Please, Zev, trust her, just as you've trusted your own instincts."  
The elven assassin's anger had dissipated to reason and logic."Very well" he said at length, "It's true I trust her enough to go by herself when need be. Let us delay no longer and give d'Aubrac a taste of his own medicine." Aldanon clasped his hand, smiling encouragingly, beckoning him not to give up hope. The others had assembled.  
"My friends, today the evil coup of Claude d'Aubrac is ended." Aldanon announced to them, "Let us make his hubris become his doom, save Celene, and restore peace to Orlais!" The rising sun made his dragonbone armour shine with a burnt red quality, that mirrored his passion and fuelled the companions' ardency for victory.

++++++++++

_One step closer to triumph,_ Wynne thought as she and Leliana wandered the halls and corridors of Imperial Keep. They had only just entered the castle, and were told to go and wait in the Duke's hall at the centre of the fortress. Even though the fort was one of the proudest and most celebrated keeps in the Empire, the oppressive, tyrannical atmosphere from the harsh intentions of d'Aubrac dominated the place. It even seeped into the minds of the many chevaliers there; the ones who had to swear loyalty to him were grouped together and admitted their reluctance to one another. Leliana considered the ambience of the fort to be akin to the soldier bastion of the Arl of Denerim's Estate, when she went with Aldanon after Arl Howe; there were some men loyal to the ruling lord and others who weren't. They managed to get onto the walls; the cool, fresh morning air, the impressive view of the lands, the dew on the leaves of the hills and fields shining under the morning sun and the beauty of the dawn was enough to put both Wynne's and Leliana's unease to rest. Below them, their quarry had arrived; Aldanon, Alistair, Fergus and Osecar trotted into view, tugging Zevran, Oghren and Durin behind them on hard ropes. The first four were clad in the armour of d'Aubrac's chevaliers. But where was Elanea? Fergus marched ahead of the group, keeping Aldanon far to the back to prevent him from being spotted; it was hoped that his own Orlesian was better than Aldanon's and because he was the one man they would least recognise. Both women knelt down on one knee, faking a prayer to the Maker, and listened in on Fergus' negotiation with the guards. He seemed to have been doing well at first; his accent and several of his words were in the right place, but he had to insist that he presented the 'bandits' to d'Aubrac instead of sending them to be hung, this made them very suspicious. But Oghren lost patience and tried to attack them when he broke his rope, it took all four of them to pin him down again. Convinced that the 'bandits' were dangerous, the guards let them pass into the courtyard.

++++++++++

Aldanon could see that the courtyard was a hive of activity; hundreds men drilled hard against one another while others rested, patrols passed by regularly and officers strutted about barking orders to their men. He looked up at the two brown-clad figures on the wall, Wynne gestured to him to meet them on the bridge leading to the wall on their right. They entered the antechamber of the castle; the room was dimly lit, lacked decoration and stank of sweaty men patrolling the corridors of the Keep and lying idle or standing guard. Fergus asked a guard which direction to the prison, to their fortune, it was to the right, towards the bridge. They walked in that direction, passing the dozens of men in their path, until they spotted a door leading to an upward staircase. To avoid being spotted, Aldanon gestured Fergus, Alistair and Osecar to remain behind and guard the others to keep up the pretence. He came out onto the bridge, the sun blazing on his chevalier armour and firing Leliana's starlet hair. She smiled as he took his helmet off, stealing time for a chaste kiss, before quickly returning to the mission.  
"We've searched the castle for some time now," she explained to him quietly, leading him to the staircase, "The Keep's walls are where most of the chevaliers' quarters are stationed, and where most of them are. I might have to tinker with most of their door locks and trap them in, thus cutting d'Aubrac off from additional troops."  
"But it might not be enough, if the chevaliers woke up then they would call for help" Wynne feared, "While we were searching, I did notice there were crates of sleep bombs, most likely purchased from the Orlesian Circle of Magi, if were were to set them off inside the chevalier quarters, they soldiers within be knocked senseless."  
Aldanon nodded as he listened, his eyes glinting with hope, "Excellent work, you two. But did you find Celene?" Both women nodded, but there was something grievous at mention of her name, Aldanon grimaced in fear.  
"We did find her, where you said, in the East Wing," Wynne explained sadly, "We didn't recognise her at first."  
Leliana nodded, her eyes betrayed something terrible. "She was tortured, cut and beaten all across her body, parts of her hair were torn and her dress was shredded, when Wynne tried to speak to her, she didn't recognise her."  
Wynne sombrely acknowledged her, "I also detected traces of entropic magic on her body, she must have been tortured by mages as well. We should be alert and use caution when we free Celene."  
"We've seen most of the keep's defences," Leliana resumed, pulling out a layered map of the keep, "trebuchets strategically positioned on each of the six segments of the walls flanked by towers, easy enough to debilitate with the sleep bombs and the trebuchets can be easily broken. As for how to get Celene out, I'm not so certain."  
Aldanon nodded understandably, "Lets gather the others and see what we can draw up from this." he took the map and gestured down the staircase to the others, but no one responded. He called their names out but still received nothing. He stepped down the stairs to investigate. To his horror, Fergus, Alistair, Zevran, Oghren and Durin were held at blade end by d'Aubrac's chevaliers and a familiar face for Leliana; Captain Detrer.

++++++++++

Aldanon was caught stunned, Wynne was confused and Leliana enraged at the presence at the smug captain. Aldanon knew immediately that this was no situation that could be resolved with automatic bloodshed.  
"So you return from the dead," Detrer announced in a tone that tried to remove quality, "I think my lord will be most pleased that he has a chance to do what Marjolaine failed to accomplish and complete his victory."  
Leliana drew her daggers, "You will pay for your barbarism, Detrer!" she cried, and charged towards him. Aldanon lunged towards her to stop her, but she struggled to be free, "Let me go, Aldanon!" she shouted in rage.  
"He's quite right to restrain you of course," said Detrer, holding his blade to Alistair, "One more step, and their throats are slit open. The only way I can spare them and your priest friends is if you give yourself willingly to us." Aldanon stilled in horror; the impossible choice was before him. Wynne could not save them if he resorted to hostility, nor could they reasonably complete the mission without him or the entire castle knowing about them.  
"Just who exactly are you?" he queried, attempting to buy time, "And how do you know him, Leliana?"  
"He's the man who arrested me when I worked for Marjolaine and the man who sold me back to Marjolaine when I returned." she seethed, drawing her bow to fire, only to be answered by pained gurgling from Alistair.  
"I am Duke d'Aubrac's first captain, Detrer," he said diplomatically, "But I'm not here to introduce myself, all I require is whether you are a selfless, worthy champion or a selfish, cowardly opportunist." Detrer's words stung Aldanon's ire, he wanted to rush headlong and dismember him there, but he needed to consider his assets first.  
Suddenly, something sparked in him, "Actually, what amazes me is that though we've just met, you really are bone dead stupid." Detrer stared at Aldanon furiously and his jaw fixed, but did not press his sword further. "I mean, you've got over a dozen men at your side and yet you still can't see the obvious," Aldanon continued, his courage was baffling Leliana, but Wynne seemed to understand what he implied and silently drew her staff.  
"Like what?" Detrer humoured him, as a helmed chevalier flanked him quietly.  
"That chevalier behind you is one inch too short." he said quietly, indicating the man flanking Detrer; he turned around and saw the chevalier draw a staff rather than a sword and knocked him against the wall with a fist of stone. Shocked and baffled and thwarted, the enemy chevaliers drew their swords from the trapped warriors and rogue to engage Osecar, but the elven mage was prepared and unleashed a jet of ice that froze them in place. With the enemy frozen, Alistair, Fergus, Oghren, Durin and Zevran rose up to shatter their ice casings, sending them limply to the ground, dead. The group breathed a sigh of relief and piled the bodies away from the hall, another patrol was coming. Whilst dragging the bodies up the staircase Durin noticed to his left a small trapdoor, he lifted it to reveal a deep compartment filled with stones, most likely for the trebuchets.  
"We can deposit the bodies in this compartment." he whispered hoarsely and gestured the trapdoor. But Leliana was more interested in finishing Detrer, but he'd already gone; though disappointed, she'd vowed to slay him.  
"That was close," Aldanon commented, "Anyway, now that they're out of the way, we will need to move quickly. Leliana and I will go to the room where Wynne said the sleep bombs are and knock out the chevalier quarters. Zevran, you're the next lock-picker we have, go with Fergus, Alistair, and Durin and knock out the trebuchets."  
Zevran mused Aldanon's orders, "Hmm, I do have some experience of knocking out castle defences, once at a Don's castle in Nevarra, but regardless, I will see it done!" Aldanon smiled at the rogue's optimism.  
"That leaves Wynne, Durin and Osecar to find a way out for Celene, once you've found a way, locate me. We will free Celene, and Wynne you will have to get her away from the Keep. I'll make my way to the portcullis."

++++++++++

Alistair, Fergus, Oghren and Zevran made it to the top of the walls. While Zevran readjusted the ropes of the trebuchets so that they would break apart on pressure, and Oghren lent him his strength, Alistair and Fergus watched for Detrer and hostile chevaliers. Alistair, though believing that victory was possible, feared for their survival if they were caught. The first two segments of the wall were successfully crippled of defences; but before long, organised patrols of chevaliers led by Detrer started appearing everywhere. Aldanon found the crate full of sleeping grenades, and took it to the first few quarters where the resting soldiers lay, allowing Leliana to quietly infiltrate the rooms and place one grenade in each room. The gas would seep through the room and Leliana would escape before the gas could effect and lock the door. They were caught in the act twice, but never captured, for there were enough sleep bombs in the crate to finish them of quickly. However, they could not find anywhere to dispose the bodies and had to work faster, and Leliana knew speed wasn't the way to achieve this. Perhaps it was only Aldanon who kept his confidence up against all odds. They'd finished three sections of the walls, and had to move to the next one along via the hallways. The sound of arguing came unexpectedly from a cellar, Before long, they stumbled on Durin and oddly enough, Oghren, arguing to their usual ridiculous and in Wynne's viewpoint childish proportions. Aldanon wanted to know why he wasn't with Alistair and Fergus. At first glance, they were both quarrelling over a door, but when Aldanon approached they stopped their banter.  
"Ah, Warden," Oghren welcomed Aldanon, "I think my stone-sense is tingling, and that we're on to something!"  
Had he been at the beer again? "Really, why's that?" Aldanon asked the dwarf. "and why are you down here?"  
"Fergus said there were too many of us, and might draw attention. And because we found some tracks."  
Aldanon paced to the doorway where the dwarves stood. "Oghren, those are mine tracks." he commented.  
Leliana frowned, looking down into the tunnel "Aldanon, those aren't your tracks. They're-"  
"No, no, no. Not 'mine', 'mine'. As in-" he interjected, only to be cut off by Leliana again again.  
"What? Now, you're making no sense, you're saying they're yours when they're clearly not. They're-"  
Durin joined in the act, "No, I think he's saying they're mine-" she rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation.  
"They're not yours either! For one thing they're made of iron and wood and-"  
"Makers Breath!" he almost shouted, "I meant 'mine', as in _mining _tracks, for mines and miners." he elaborated.  
"Ooohh!" she exclaimed, stifling a giggle at the sheer silliness of it; the dwarves had indeed found a mineshaft, it was completely unlit save for a few nearby torches, in it's darkness it seemed to go on forever. Out of the dark, two figures illuminated by torchlight; it was Wynne and Osecar. On seeing Aldanon, they hastened their pace.  
"Good, you've made it," Wynne breathed, cleaning spots of dust of her robe, "We found this tunnel, it leads to an outcropping of rocks a few miles east of the Keep in the woods. I think we've just found a way out for Celene."  
"Excellent work, I think the time has come to free Celene." Aldanon announced, "I will go to the East Wing with Leliana and try to free her, We'll escort her to this cellar and Wynne, I want you to get her out." Wynne nodded obediently, seeing his logic, he turned to Osecar "I want you to put the sleep bombs in the soldier quarters, try and use a heat spell to fuse the lock." Osecar drew his staff in demonstration of the potential spell; impressed, Aldanon turned to the dwarves, "As for you two, go to the walls and help Fergus and Alistair. Lets go!" They separated to do their part. Still in his chevalier disguise, Aldanon followed Leliana to the prison wing, passing a guard with tolerable Orlesian, announcing further torture. He followed her to the furthest cell, upon seeing her his blood froze. She was exactly as Leliana had described; a broken shell of a woman with nothing left in life, and behind her, nestled in a corner of the cell, looking almost as worse for wear, the Chantry Divine.  
"Celene..." he whispered to her, she looked up at him, her eyes clouded with confusion, "Celene, it's me."  
"No," she mumbled weakly, "It can't be you, you're dead. d'Aubrac's men killed you." she shuffled away.  
"Celene, please listen," he urged, "We're going to get you out, you and Her Reverence." he nodded to the Divine.  
"I fear your efforts are all but spent, lad." the old woman said gravely, "The empress was so shocked at the betrayal of her husband, the burning of Val Royeaux and the many tortures he inflicted on her that she is for all intents and purposes deceased. She was strong, and remains so to an extent, but this is the end of her world."  
"Your Reverence, there is still hope," Leliana appealed to her, "Val Royeaux has been saved and many lives with it. Even now, the armies of General Tremir and Ferelden march on d'Aubrac. Take heart and hold onto hope." Moved by Leliana's words, the hazy eyes of the old priest revealed a distant sign of hope, and smiled slightly.  
Leliana took Celene gently by the chin, "And Your Majesty, would you allow d'Aubrac's plots to come to pass and abandon your people to him, or if offered the chance, topple his regime once and for all? Take the chance." Celene paused and mulled Leliana's words, impressed and disbelieving at the same time, but passed her decision.  
"Lets go home." she said simply, her wish was met by the breaking of locks as Leliana's skills rendered the lock useless, behind her Aldanon dispatched the guard with a single slash of his sword. Leliana broke free both their chains and Celene slunk out of the cell, realizing her freedom, she ran into Aldanon's arms, sobbing into his chest, grateful to be free. Leliana helped the Divine onto her feet and out of the cell, amazed at her own freedom.  
"I'm leaving you in the company of a friend who will get you out of here." he explained to them, "Just follow her lead and head straight south. If you spot an army, Wynne will guide you past it, it won't be hostile. I've got to stay here and fight. Good luck." Leliana sped past him, leading Celene and the Divine. He moved ahead of them, to watch for hostile soldiers, so far there were very few of them. They made it to the cellar, Wynne would get them out to safety. Leaving the two women in Wynne's hands, he made his way to the top of the wall.

++++++++++

On reaching the top of the walls, battle was joined. Alistair, Fergus, Zevran, Oghren and Durin were locked in battle against the Detrer and his patrol of chevaliers. More of the enemy was approaching as more of the castle's men saw the battle. All of the sudden, the sound of war horns from the ramparts and clunking metal arose from behind him; the portcullis was being opened. He ran to the edge of the wall; the numerous chevalier patrols were being called in. Mustering his own wits, he rushed into battle. Fergus was hard-pressed, though he had cast away his disguise, his armour was battered by many blows and he was almost at the edge. A sword pierced through the armour of his enemy, Aldanon had sundered him. With his brother at his side, Aldanon freed Alistair from his own problems, gathering momentum as he went, he freed the others but Detrer escaped again. Seeing the soldiers pour into the Keep, the group dashed for the portcullis only to be intercepted by more soldiers coming up the walls. A line of archers in the courtyard readied to fire as Aldanon and his group engaged the soldiers on the staircase. Suddenly a blizzard swept over the archers, ruining their aim and seeping into their armour, freezing them while others were hailed with arrows. Osecar and Leliana had come. Osecar called on more of his spells and reduced the charging soldiers to frozen statues or roasted corpses, but enemy mages were coming.  
Aldanon could see the situation for him was growing dire, "Leliana!" he called out to her, "Fire the arrow!" She tore across the ramparts towards the south of the castle, drew one of her fire arrows, readied her bow and loosed the arrow. Like a phoenix igniting, it's fiery signal was not ignored. To the enemy's shock and Aldanon's rejoice, the Ferelden army had come. But the enemy horsemen, seeing this new threat, turned about and readied to charge. A booming voice cut across the battle of the keep and mechanical clanging erupted from the gate; the portcullis was closing. Pinpointing the device, Osecar drew in his magic and unleashed a spell at the device and it froze into stone, thus halting the portcullis from closing. Eamon realized that he had arrived too early, no sign of Tremir could be seen. The enemy horsemen gathered momentum as they charged; seeing the danger, Eamon halted the army and rallied the spearmen to the front and the archers behind. The charging chevaliers were halted by the lines of spears and hampered by the volleys of arrows, but detachments of them started to break away and circle the Fereldan army. To Aldanon's satisfaction, the moment the soldiers attempted to use the trebuchets, the machines were completely sundered from the pressure. More and more of d'Aubrac's soldiers had surfaced to engage Aldanon and his group, to prevent them from being picked off, he unified them in one of the defensive towers to prevent them from being overrun. In an effort to buy time, Osecar melted the lock, they would have to bash their way in. They waited for the moment to come, but the sound of men screaming filled the air. Confused, Aldanon beckoned Osecar to break the door down; outside, the assailant soldiers lay dead with many arrows in them. Alistair ran to the ramparts and another hail of arrows greeted him, his Juggernaut armour was enough to resist any wayward ones, when he lowered his shield he almost dropped his sword. Amidst the green and brown of the forest came the distinguishable shapes of elves. Elanea's efforts were not in vain; the Dalish had come. He looked to the east; Eamon's army was almost totally surrounded and the dead were visible from the ramparts.  
"Elanea! Tell the Dalish to aid Arl Eamon! Fire on the chevaliers!" he shouted down to her. The dalish were few in number, but surpassed all other archers, they drew their bows and loosed their shafts, sending many a horseman off his mount. The keeper, an elderly male elf with long hair, directed further to the archers to continue to barrage the ramparts, removing enemy resistance from the walls. Fergus looked over towards the beleaguered army perhaps there was hope after all as d'Aubrac's forced started breaking apart. Something was charging towards both armies; the banner of the Empress's House flew in the air. General Tremir had come. His horsemen came up behind d'Aubrac's, sundering them from behind, and smaller battalions made for the entrance. Down below, one of Elanea's arrows struck straight an true as it cut through Captain Detrer's hauberk, rending him dead. Knowing that the battle may yield yet victory, Aldanon continued his rampage across the walls, destroying every man loyal to d'Aubrac. Alistair ran alongside him, the two warriors were forces of nature against all in their path. But suddenly, the arrow wound in Alistair's shoulder started twinging in pain, he stopped to nurse the wound but Aldanon had already gone. Aldanon saw the one man he wanted to kill; Claude d'Aubrac. The man looked as he did during his mutiny at the city, and escorted by the same retinue, but wielded a particular prize; King Maric's Sword.

++++++++++

Raising his momentum, stamina and strength, Aldanon smote down upon d'Aubrac's retinue, scattering them in his wake. Fear pulsated in their chests, they did not expect to see Aldanon resurrected before them. The Duke himself was unnerved by seeing his nemesis alive, but sensing the urge for glory, he sent his men away.  
"So, you did indeed survive." he said dismissively, and waved Maric's Sword. "Recognise this, Fereldan scum?"  
Aldanon stared back at him, defiant, "There's a reason why that sword is not meant for Orlesian hands."  
But d'Aubrac was just as undaunted. "Tell me, Cousland, do you really think you're suited to the throne?"  
Aldanon's defiance broke slightly, "You should ask that question yourself, d'Aubrac, stealing your own throne."  
"Could you realistically leave the throne of the man who wielded this sword against us to yourself?" he taunted, circling him, "Rather than leave his heir to wield it? The best thing you could do for your Order and your land is lend yourself to me. Let Maric's offspring have the throne because that is what your petty nobles want."  
"Is all you have to offer taunts?" Aldanon retorted, d'Aubrac snorted in derision. "Time to give my sword back." he raised Stafang to sweep down in an arc on his enemy's breastplate, but the weapon could do nothing to pierce it. Realising the sword was dented, d'Aubrac chuckled sinisterly, and raised the sword and met Aldanon's. The Duke's ability with sword and shield surpassed Aldanon's, blocking every blow that came his way from Aldanon, dalish arrows or Tremir's soldiers, and launching each of his blows with perfect precision. Aldanon had one advntage, however; Maric's Blade was enchanted with silverite runes, perfect for darkspawn, but otherwise ineffective against another man. He pierced Aldanon's armour, right above the stalwart breastplate and through the weaker metals guarding the shoulder, forcing down onto his knees and d'Aubrac looming over him, the pain of the magical blade surging through his body like fell fire. He cast his eyes around him to see that the pain in his body was not just d'Aubrac's wound; the enemy mages had surrounded them and formed a protective force field.  
"You might want to reconsider this," Aldanon said weakly, "Because even if you slay me, Celene will kill you."  
But d'Aubrac was unnerved, "Did you really think you could stride in here like you owned Orlais and force me to kiss your feet? I would kill you, but I want to see you become like me." d'Aubrac seethed unrepentantly and turned sarcastic, "Hail Aldanon Cousland! The Great King of Ferelden!" incensed, Aldanon struggled to be free, but groaned in agony as his flesh pressed against the sword, his eyes flashing with rage and shouting out to him; _'I'm nothing like you'_. "Then prove yourself, Cousland! What are you; usurper or steward?" their gazes were as much locked as they were in combat, but Aldanon's strength was spent. "If you truly are a steward, then you would put others before you. 'In death, sacrifice', so the warden saying goes. You will die, son of Ferelden."

++++++++++

In his despair, Aldanon lowered his head, gritting his teeth as Maric's Blade remained wrenched in his shoulder and d'Aubrac took Starfang from his faltered hands, raised it for the final blow. Suddenly a sharp buzzing of magic stung their ears, d'Aubrac turned to see the spell wavering and the mages themselves scattering before a new surge of foes. Leliana's arrows severed one at the neck, Osecar rained lightning upon another to be finished off by Durin. Alistair had called on his templar powers to dispel the shield and stun the enemy mages. Seeing his brother in peril, Fergus drew the reforged Cousland Sword, mustering his strength and precision, raised the blade to behead d'Aubrac, but the Duke's reflexes saved him, partially. For Fergus had cleaved down on d'Aubrac's shield arm, rendering it useless and almost severing it. Berserk with fury, d'Aubrac swept Starfang into Fergus' sword, the icy enchantments of the blade sparking with each strike, until he slashed the blade across Fergus' chest. Roaring in agony, Fergus doubled over, as the Diligence Armour ran tinted with his blood. As he tried in vain to stem the blood, but d'Aubrac raised the icy sword over his head. Something massive smote down through the heavy armour and d'Aubrac keeled over in pain. Aldanon had wrenched the sword out of his shoulder and broke d'Aubrac from focus. He slashed at d'Aubrac with his remaining strength, pushing him to the edges of the keep's ramparts. He paused, holding the old sword against d'Aubrac's jugular, his enemy paces away from death. And with a single motion, slit it open. In sheer hatred for Aldanon and refusal to die, d'Aubrac still clenched Starfang as he slipped over the edge. He fell. His dark armour obscured by the fall, his body tumbling in mid-air, and his body looming over a large boulder. Starfang was loosed from his hand, the blade end tilted towards the ground, right above him. The body fell upon the boulder with an audible crash. Starfang, a blade forged from mighty star-metal and woven with powerful magics, gathered force under gravity and collided with d'Aubrac upon the boulder. An unstoppable force met an immovable object. The warriors on both sides ceased fighting to observe the cataclysm. From the power of the ice runes and the star-metal upon the rock did an almighty explosion rise from the Duke's final resting place. The outburst sundered the boulder, sending rocks into the sky to be rained down on the battlefield, the lyrium threads and ice runes released surges of magical ice and spirit power upon the enemy soldiers, freezing them in place while pure magic coursed their veins, inflicting terrible pain, finally a shockwave blasted over the keep and the lands, none could resist it's force and were cast down. Starfang ceased to exist, but in it's death throes the tide was turned. Mortally maimed by the exploding runes, and deprived of a lord and a reason to fight, the Keep's men cast down their arms, those foolhardy enough to resist quickly met their ends. In his blurred senses, Aldanon's instincts told him that the battle was won. He smiled as the forces of Ferelden and Celene raised their voices in triumph. But the pain of the wound caught up with him. He clenched his shoulder to stem the blood, leaving the one hand perilously close to the edge. He stumbled and his hand left the stone floor, in the blur he could feel hands envelop around him as he saw no more.


	34. Restoring the Empress

**Restoring The Empress  
**  
Imperial Keep was now in the hands of the Empress's army. General Tremir's men conducted a thorough sweep of the fortress, those soldiers and chevaliers lucky enough to be knocked out by the sleep bombs were made to surrender and to swear their oaths to the Empress in the absence of d'Aubrac as leader. Elanea assured Tremir on behalf of the dalish that Celene was safe within the bounds of their camp, and that their healers would help tend the wounded, both human and dalish, as d'Aubrac's soldiers were harassing the local tribe for months. To the relief of the group, Wynne had survived as well, and was eager to put her services to use. To Alistair's own personal relief, Eamon had survived as well, but an air of defeat hung on him. They lost two nobles; both Banns Sighard and Alfstanna had perished in the battle, killed when d'Aubrac's chevaliers came down on their men. Eamon concluded that Sighard's son Oswin would succeed him, but the Waking Seas would have to go to Alfastanna's templar brother, Irminric. Though he was a templar, Eamon was resolute to persuading the Divine to relieve him of his duty. What plagued Alistair's thoughts most was that now Celene would soon be restored and Ferelden could have a monarch again was whether he would be the one to succeed it. Even since his meeting with Goldanna and ever since before that, he never liked the idea of becoming king, even less by Anora's side and was content to let Aldanon take it, he appreciated that Aldanon had given him a place in the Wardens again.  
"Maker's breath..." a low groan rumbled behind him as we sat in the Keep's halls, Aldanon had woken up.  
"There you are," he said cheerfully, as Aldanon nursed his head "Looks like Leliana's quick thinking saved you."  
He placed his hand from his head to his bandaged chest wound, "What happened back there? I remember killing d'Aubrac and then there was some sort of explosion, and suddenly I lost consciousness again."  
"Well, just after you'd killed d'Aubrac, an enemy mage placed a sleep spell on you and you were stumbling dangerously close to the edge, but Leliana was able to catch you and use a health poultice to help with the wound. The explosion which was the result of your sword, Starfang, colliding with a boulder and shattering-" Aldanon's head shot up, he searched his belongings to find the sword absent, and exhaled in soreness and regret.  
"I lost the sword?" he asked desperately, Alistair nodded solemnly in confirmation, "What happened to it?"  
"I was just getting to that part," Alistair said testily, "its magic must have released when it crashed into that boulder outside the keep, the sheer strength of the metal combined with the other enchantments placed on it must have destroyed it. When that happened the enchantments' power was released across the battlefield." Aldanon nodded, and looked on slightly dismayed, "Well, could be worse. Better to lose one sword than ten men, right?"  
He smiled at his friend's wise words, "You're right, and at least Maric's Sword is reclaimed. Where's Leliana?"  
The urgency in his voice caught Alistair by surprise, "After she mended your shoulder, she left to find Celene and the Chantry Divine to take them back to the city, she said she wanted to get back to Val Royeaux as quickly as possible, something about the elven babe, Aveline. But we're not ready to leave yet; Tremir needs to marshal the soldiers who surrendered." Though relieved that she was not injured, he longed to see her again. With that moment of thought, the fond memories of the evening before the battle swam joyfully in his mind.  
His mind abruptly jolted in memory, "Wait! Where's Fergus? Last time I saw him, d'Aubrac had injured him."  
Alistair's face became drained, "He sustained a nasty sword wound across the chest that almost ruptured his rib cage. We managed to patch him up with Wynne's help, but his state isn't great. She says he's lucky to be alive."  
Aldanon's tension eased at the mention of his brother's survival, "I owe Wynne a greater debt it seems." he said.  
"Anyway, we're almost ready to leave," Alistair said as he got up, buckling his loose gauntlets, "make sure you've got everything, then we can go; Val Royeaux direct. Nice work with d'Aubrac." he added cheerfully  
Aldanon returned his friend's smile as he got up to leave, "Thank you, Alistair. I'll see you at the palace."

The ride back was quiet and sombre, though the worst was over; Orlais had endured a civil war of its own as darkspawn assaulted its capital. General Tremir heartily commended Elanea for calling the dalish to their aid, and assured the tribe that they will be thanked and respected by all Orlais one day. Aldanon wondered time and again how she was able to muster them to their call. Celene's survival swiftly became a boon to the nation, and couriers bearing news of her liberation to all the villages, towns and cities throughout the land spread across Orlais like wildfire and created a ripple of joy throughout the country that was assured to be long in departure. This was certainly obvious as they passed a village southwards. The civil war had ended before it had truly begun and with Ferelden's aid. The fact of Ferelden's beneficial role surprised many within the country, but this was something Orlais would learn to accept. On the ride back, Aldanon eventually found his way to Celene at the head of the retinue. He steadied his horse to an easy pace alongside hers.  
"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?" he asked politely, attempting not to provoke ill feelings or memories.  
But the Empress smiled at his courtesy, "I'm still rather unnerved by the whole affair. But I'm much better now. Claude's betrayal still has me gripped in shock, Aldanon," she murmured, shaking her head in grief, "but I could think of no one worthier to slay him than you. You have done Orlais a great service that we shall not forget."  
Aldanon smiled appreciatively. "I am glad that we were able to end his threat, this was just a bit personal after all." he said, letting his mind wander, "I myself find myself enjoying this sort of thing; danger. Spending a year fighting across Ferelden became part of me; the risk, the fervour, the thrill, I came to enjoy it. Mad isn't it?"  
She grinned at his unique mannerism, "It's not so different, I used to take thrill at the whole idea of political intrigue within the Orlesian gentry. But today has taught me that there is never too much caution in one's life"  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leliana riding further ahead of the retinue, her hair flowing freely as the wind flowed around her, "I understand, Celene, that Leliana tended to you after the battle, what did you speak of?" he asked, gesturing towards her, an affectionate smile complementing his tone as he admired her grace.  
His gaze was not ignored by Celene's keen eyes, ""When she introduced herself to me, and I understood that she was an alleged criminal, but such things certainly did not matter. The past is the past. Her character and actions were the hallmarks of a more sincere, giving person. I considered her character and concluded that any crimes in the past are to be forgiven; she will always be a welcome guest in Orlais. Consider it a gift for your efforts." Aldanon quickly turned to face her, astounded, her eyes signalled she knew something, yet they sparked with joy  
"You know about us?" he asked, gesturing himself and Leliana, "Who? What? When? How?" he stammered.  
Celene smiled warmly, "I'm not secluded from common knowledge, sir, and I can see love where it appears. I can see it in your tone and actions in mention of her, and I could see it in hers as well. When she speaks of you kindly, the fondness in her voice is like a hearth in winter; welcoming and warm. You must have done something to stir such strong feelings, yes?" Aldanon stammered slightly to search for the right words, but found none. But Celene smiled at his inability to express himself and simply read the fervour in his eyes. "You will eventually want to decide how to continue this romance, Aldanon, but consider your future and hers. She is in love with you." Her horse quickened pace and left him. Though the passion and joy of last night was a fresh memory, the reality that she may indeed be in love with him did not seem wholly real. More like a dream than anything else. Could he be so in love so soon after the death of Anora? Anything rational about this objected to this, but perhaps rationality was irrelevant here; he loved her. The incredible sensation of the image of Morrigan in his heart fading away before him and Leliana taking her place proved that. He now wanted nothing else but to be with her. But how? No king could marry outside the nobility as Fergus said; he would either forfeit the throne and keep her at his side, or accept it and force their love to end. Only the Maker could decide.

To say Val Royeaux burst into joy at Celene's return was an understatement. Despite the recently faded darkness and the dark memories, the city could not stop rejoicing. Aldanon's horse came up alongside Celene's guard as they entered the gateway into the city. Upon seeing the multitudes of folk storming the army, Aldanon was reminded of the moment he left the royal palace in Denerim to greet the crowds after the post-coronation ceremony dedicated to his and Ferelden's victory; and immediately regretted those heralds and horns that sounded their return. Entire throngs of city folk crowded the returning army and entourage, cheering, chanting and singing to their joy, accompanied by the church bells of the Grand Cathedral, so much so it took all of Tremir's chevaliers to settle the masses, and even then there was no stopping their elation. Though he was eager to get proper rest and check on Fergus, the sheer joy of all the people of Val Royeaux greeting the return of their Empress and the victors moved his heart. His companions and comrades were equally taken aback by the jubilant hosts, for Osecar, Durin and Elanea, this was something completely unknown to them and it took their breath away. They reached the threshold of Palais Royeaux, for which few could be gladder to see, and Celene took her position on the doorstep as the great crowds of people approached them, eagerly awaiting their empress.  
"People of Val Royeaux," she announced in Orlesian as soon as the noise had died down, "It is my pleasure to announce that the crisis has passed." Cheering filled the evening air as the sun set over the towers of the city and people rejoiced. "I have never been gladder to be alive and here as your empress than I have any other day. But this man," she gestured to Aldanon and beckoned him up, "Is the one whom we must truly thank for my life. This man has earned his place as a true hero of Orlais through his valorous deeds to our realm. This man is a Fereldan of untold valour and will be rewarded justly." She turned to Arl Eamon, who was still in awe of their victory, "Lord Eamon, when must you take your leave?"  
"We will leave as soon as our vessels have been restocked for the journey and our warriors have recuperated," Eamon explained, "perhaps three days. But no longer, a king needs to be crowned."  
Celene turned back to the assembled crowds, "Then let it be known, that on the third day, on the eve of the Fereldans' departure, the Hero of Ferelden will see his services to Orlais bear fruit, for few outside the land have done more for us." The crowds met her conclusion and Aldanon with enthusiastic applause, and Aldanon could see there was no reason for fear disapproval; the people of Orlais welcomed heroes from every country. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of the crowds, his heavy temples told him that rest would be most welcome. He wondered if the others felt the same.  
"Ah, Aldanon, there you are." General Tremir's voice came over to him, "I trust you must be tired, I know I almost am. Perhaps you and your companions might want to retire to the palace; the steward is preparing a light meal for the evening and you may rest. I will remain here to continue business with Celene. It's been an honour fighting by your side."  
"It's been an honour for me as well." Aldanon said courteously, clasping the general's hand, "And yes, to rest would be appreciated. Will my companions be taken care of?" Tremir nodded, and kindly gestured to the opened palace doors. Feeling the gentle warmth of the palace from the fireplaces, Aldanon saluted the general and paced inside to his rest.

The palace had lost a little of its original splendour from the day Aldanon first entered with Anora at his side, there were hallways and drawing rooms simply packed with refugees, each room invigilated by a guard, their spirits slightly raised by the return of Celene. The steward had removed a group of city people from one of the rooms, allowing Aldanon and his companions to rest; he turned to see Fergus being led upstairs, a bloody bandage covering his chest. For a long while, few words were exchanged, but Aldanon did not mind for the luxuries of the palace put his mind at ease. Until he noticed something was wrong. Leliana was missing. He looked about and got up to search the palace and noticed a letter had fallen from his lap. He picked it up from the floor, unfurled it, and noticed it bore the Steward's signature, he read it out.  
_"To Lord Aldanon,  
One of your lady friends, Leliana has gone to dine and socialize at the house of scholar Brother Giovanni, and will not return until late this night. You may depart for the night at any time you please, and dinner will be served at the lounge.  
Business will be discussed in the afternoon, The Steward."_  
He knew what the letter meant; she'd probably gone back to Giovanni to bring Aveline back. Aldanon folded the letter away, and stared longingly into the fireplace, that gleamed like Leliana's hair in the sunlight. In his detached sense of hearing, he could make out his companions talking mildly amongst each other, of the two battles past and of smaller things. But he continued to look glumly on. A firm hand hit him hard on the shoulder; almost knocking him over, it was Geoffrey. The grey warden looked as he did when he left Aldanon's company, clad in silverite heavy plate armour. Judging by the faded sweat marks, he'd recently seen battle. Aldanon picked himself up and clasped Geofrrey's hand.  
"Good to see you've returned safely, Aldanon." He said warmly to Aldanon. "You are indeed a great warden."  
"Perhaps, but a few weeks without greatness would be appreciated, I was only one man and served in the ranks." Aldanon replied modestly, "But if there is indeed anything that you need of me? I can leave right now, if you will."  
"It is late, and you are right to seek rest after battle," said Geoffrey, "But there is some business to discuss; concerning the darkspawn and the Disciples. But we will discuss it tomorrow morning, before your final business with Celene."  
"I must admit, I had a close call, just before finishing d'Aubrac. I owe that victory to my friends and companions and so much more. Without them, without so much as one of them, I may not even be sitting here. They were brilliant."  
Geoffrey smiled at the other man's heartfelt gratitude to his friends, "I've never met a man who's spoken more surely about anything in his life until now." He said favourably, "It's been good seeing you, but I most return to Château-Gris. We will have time to discuss the future tomorrow, and bring Alistair with you. Farewell, Brother." Both wardens saluted one another and Geoffrey left. Dinner arrived moments later, and for just this night, formalities were excluded as the companions dined away from the table, continuing their exchange of small talk. _The greater celebratory feast will come later, I suppose_, Aldanon thought, as he rubbed his stomach while the grey warden insatiable hunger acted up in him.

It was nearing midnight and the celebrations had not entirely died down in the city, and Celene and Tremir remained up to regain full order in the city. In their tiredness, the companions had retired to rest. Alistair, Wynne, Osecar were led to their rooms, Alistair first. In fact, as soon as the young warden had taken off his armour and got into a set of pyjamas provided by the servants, he had already collapsed to deep sleep onto the duvet, snoring loudly. They passed Fergus' room, which resembled a medical ward in a hospital; the pain had kept him up mostly, but seeing Aldanon's sleepy eyes, smiled. Osecar used his magic to warm the bedclothes up before entering and burying himself underneath them. As for the dwarves; after Oghren was banished from the palace quarters for bad manners, he'd managed to find an inn with one of two available rooms. Feeling compunction for his kinsman's plight, Durin volunteered to acquire the next room in that inn, commenting that he'd probably ruin the bedchamber anyway. Elanea's brief contact with nature and the wilderness left her yearning to be with it again, and left for the nearest garden in the palace grounds and rested as Leliana did when she arrived in the city; beneath a tree. Allowing his subconscious dalish traits to take over, Zevran made his way to her. As Aldanon observed while he quietly followed him to her, the exotic charm of the Zevran had made its way to Elanea's heart as she welcomed him. Yet for all that time Aldanon waited, there was no sign of Leliana's return. Perhaps Aveline was too tired to travel or something. Laying aside any thoughts for her, he left the drawing room and made his way to his room. The palace was very dimly light by a few candles, and as he wearily followed the guiding candle light to his room, something odd struck him. A fireplace had been lit; its flames illuminated the room and made it warm and welcoming. He walked gently over to it, allowing the heat to radiate onto him. He'd long cast off his armour, leaving him in a simple, white linen shirt with light grey trousers. Just as the gentle allure of the fire drew him in, a hand placed itself on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, and turned his head to find the one woman he wanted to see; Leliana. His breath was instantly taken away; in complement to her lively red hair was a silken gold nightdress that highlighted lissom shape and colour with perfection.  
"Leliana, I-I've not been more amazed to see you." He stuttered slightly, a smile bloomed on her face, "This is just-"  
She gently placed her hand on his lips "You needn't say anything, my love." She said silkily, placing herself in front of the fireplace, gently pulling him towards it and sitting down "Aveline has been put to bed in a joint room, and I need to talk."  
He resisted the calming effect her hands had on him, "Well, fire away!" he said calmly.  
"It has been some time since I left Ferelden," she said in a restful voice. "and a very, very long time since I began my new life away from Marjolaine and left Lothering. When I stepped out of the cloister, I had no idea where my path would lead; I was uncertain if I would ever find or learn something from it after the end of the Blight. After my return to Orlais, I was even less certain of my future. I walked where the Maker led me and he has rewarded me for my faith. I found you."  
Her cordiality warmed him to the core, and even the warmth and light of the fire paled to her, "And I am glad to have found you Leliana, for too long I have been blinded by Morrigan' spells, and now I can see, clearer now than ever before."  
She grinned and suppressed a flattered giggle. "You don't know how it makes me feel to hear you say that." She said warmly, placing her hand on his cheek and moving in very close.  
He suddenly smiled, "Maybe not but I can certainly try. Let me guess, warm and fuzzy?" her suppressed giggle gave way.  
She rose from the carpet, "But now it's getting very late." She said with a yawn. "I think I might turn in... I help thinking how soft and warm that bed of yours is."  
At first, Aldanon thought Osecar was playing a practical joke with his magic because he felt jolts run down his spine. He realized he was terrified and did not know what to do. Should he immediately comply? Should he try a stalling tactic and play hard to get? Did he look visibly anxious? And he still could not believe it. "Oh! Um...m-my bed did you say? "  
"Mmhmm, unless you have another bed that you can call your own in this palace?" she asked curiously.  
In his confusion, he opted for the stalling tactic, "I think I'll stay up and write in my journal." He said casually.  
Leliana's brows shot up, "I didn't know you had a journal. Or wrote in it regularly." He said in surprise.  
"I suppose it's a little odd for a warrior, but tonight's special, I want to make a _really _special entry." He added smoothly.  
But Leliana caught up on him, "Well, maybe you could bring it to bed and I could watch you write, I could give you suggestions." She took on an elaborate pantomime manner, "'Dear journal, Leliana has showed much affection for me, even come into my room and asked me to come to bed with her. But alas, subtlety is lost on me.'"  
This was of course meant as a tease, but it was time to desert it, "Oh, my dear, it never was lost on me. I _do _get it."  
"Good, now let us enjoy the night while it lasts, lest I lose my patience." She said conclusively, wrapping her arms around him.  
Aldanon chuckled and wrapped arms his around her waist, their firm grip taking hold. "Dearest Leli, your patience has paid off." Without a moment's notice, his strength sent her flying from the ground within his arms, she exclaimed, startled, breathing heavily from the thrill of the motion and fixed her deep blue eyes with Aldanon's verdant ones. Their lips met in the kiss, their head swam passionately as their hands caressed over one another's body and wrestled for control of the motion on the carpet. In time, impulse gave way to comfort, and Aldanon swept her from the carpet, her limbs dangling purposefully, exposing her lithe features. They reunited within the bed; fervency was reaching peak levels as Aldanon removed her dress and disappeared in their affectionate courtship of love and slipped deeper within as instinct took over.


End file.
